


“Robot” is Derogatory

by LettreDeMarque



Category: Robot Series - Isaac Asimov, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Androids, Buddy Cops, Caves of Steel, Commissioner Bobby, Detective Castiel, Detective Dean Winchester, Gen, Lawyer Sam, Minor Character Death, Murder Mystery, Mystery, Robots, Science Fiction, detective!dean, robot!cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-30
Updated: 2015-05-28
Packaged: 2018-02-19 07:57:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 34,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2380751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LettreDeMarque/pseuds/LettreDeMarque
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[A fusion fic between the TV show Supernatural and Isaac Asimov's SciFi/Mystery "Caves of Steel"]</p><p>Over a millennium into the future two advancements have altered the course of human history; the colonization of the galaxy and the creation of the positronic brain. Like most people left behind on an overpopulated Earth, Detective Dean Winchester had little love for the colonists or their robot companions. But when a prominent colonist is killed under mysterious circumstances Dean finds that not just his job is on the line, but possibly the fate of the human race.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Conversation with the Commissioner

When Detective Dean Winchester arrived Thursday morning at his office door,  _A. Samandriel_ was waiting outside. Dean chose to ignore the pale, skinny specimen and shoved into his office anyway. The detective sat down at his desk, emptied his briefcase and then checked his phone and inbox for any new files or messages he might have received while off shift. Finally, after about five minutes of awkward silence and unblinking stares, Dean turned and growled.

“What is it?” he asked.

“The boss wants to see you, Dean,” _A. Samandriel_ told him evenly. “Right away. As soon as you come in.”

“Alright.” Dean waved him off, but _A. Samandriel_ continued to stare at him vacantly. Dean barked, “I said, ‘alright’! _Go away!_ ”

At that command _A. Samandriel_ turned sharply on his heels and left to go about his regular duties. Dean grumbled under his breath. The detective wondered who had been replaced to make room for _A. Samandriel_ and why the department couldn’t have gotten a man to do the work. He sighed resignedly and got up to see what the big boss wanted with him. 

“Hold the elevator!” Officer Deacon Green called out just before the doors closed. Dean obliged.

“Thanks, Dean.” Officer Green said when the doors whimpered closed behind him. He selected the floor he wanted and stepped back. “Oh, I think the boss wanted to see you.”

“Yeah, I know.” Dean sighed again. “ _A. Sami_ told me.”

 Officer Green snorted. “I’d kick his ass if I wasn’t worried about breaking a foot.” He paused then added solemnly, “I saw Brian Wilcox the other day.”

“Yeah?”

“Came looking for his job back or any job the department’s willing to give him.” Officer Green said, “What could I tell him? _A. Sami_ is doing the work now. I told him he should check in food service. Deliveries is always hiring.”

Food production and services wasn’t the most glamorous job. Wilcox had been a bright kid, too. Everybody liked him. Dean agreed that it was a waste of talent. He shrugged awkwardly and said, “That’s just the world we live in now.”

Officer Green got off one level before Dean and the detective waved good-bye before he continued up to the higher offices. His boss had a private office with “Robert S. Singer” written in beautiful letters the glass door. Underneath was written, COMMISSIONER OF POLICE, CITY OF SIOUX FALLS. The door was half open so Dean knocked twice and entered.

“You wanted to see me, commissioner?”

Bobby Singer looked up.

Whether it was out of sentimentality or because of hair loss, the commissioner always wore a greasy ball cap when he was working. He claimed it helped him focus, like a good luck charm or a literal thinking cap. It was only after taking in the shock of the spectacle of the hat that one could study the rest of his face, which fit the general description of “cranky old man”. He had a short beard and creases staking a claim around his eyes. Dean suspected the lines and creases were the result of an almost continuous surly expression.

Bobby had a strange attachment to antiques and old things. Dean understood in a way. He liked old rock music and old TV shows like Star Trek.  Dean figured Bobby felt a sort of kinship with antiques and a grudging respect that, as old as they may be, they were probably still going to outlast the old man.

Bobby pulled on the knot of his tie nervously and motioned for Dean to sit down. Dean obeyed stiffly and waited.

“How are Sam and Jess?” Bobby asked trying to dispel some of the tension in the air. “You boys should drop by sometime. I know we haven’t got together much since your daddy died, but Ellen would appreciate it.”

“Sure.” Dean replied without much feeling. It was a false start and he knew it. Bobby and his wife might have been Dean’s godparents, but in this office Bobby was his boss. Dean instinctively knew he wasn’t going to like what was coming so he changed the subject. “I wish you wouldn’t send _A. Sami_ as the messenger.”

“I know how you feel about those things, Dean.” Bobby told him. “But he’s here now and we gotta make use of him for something.”

“But it’s just weird, Bobby,” Dean complained. “He tells me what you want and then just stands there.”

“Oh,” Bobby said. “That was my fault. I forgot to tell him specifically once the message was delivered to get back to his job.”

Dean gave him a look. “You see what I mean? The guy’s practically useless.”

“Write your congressman,” Bobby snapped without sympathy. “Experts say we’re saving the tax payer dollar by giving grunt work to grunts that don’t need sleep or a paycheck while creating higher paying jobs in manufacturing and assembly. Where’s the fault in that?”

“Yeah?” Dean pressed. “And how did Wilcox feel about that speech? Or did you just hand him the government pamphlet and saved your breath?”

Bobby didn’t say anything and just stared the younger man down. They glared at each other for another minute, exchanging some silent dialogue, before Dean finally surrendered. Dean crossed his arms in a manner that conducted by a lesser man would have been called a pout.

“Anyway, why did you want to see me?” He asked civilly.

Bobby stood up and turned around. In a half retreat of his own, the commissioner walked up to the wall behind his desk and pressed a hidden switch making the back wall become transparent. Dean blinked against the sudden surge of natural light.

In the old days all rooms had things like this. _Windows_ , Dean half remembered. He thought they were called “windows”. Writers often reminisced about windows and skylights in the historical novels his younger brother liked to read.

“Come take a look,” Bobby ordered.

Dean fidgeted for a moment, but then did what he was told. There was something indecent about exposing a private room to outside view. To Dean’s surprise it was raining. He soon became lost in the hypnotic view of water just falling from the sky.

“Had these installed last year,” Bobby explained with a touch of pride. “Beautiful, isn’t it? It calms me down. Lord, knows I’ve needed it the last couple of days.”

Against his better judement, Dean had to admit that it was impressive. In his thirty-two years Dean had rarely seen the rain or any work of nature for that matter. Hardly anybody did. It was indecent. It belonged to a less civilized age.

“It seems like a waste for it to fall down on the city like that,” Dean muttered. “It should keep itself to the reservoirs.”

“Dean,” Bobby scolded. “You’re thinking like a modernist. There was a time when people lived out in the open and I don’t mean just farmers. In cities too they kept in touch with nature. It was better, healthier even. They celebrated rain.”

It was starting to sound like a lecture from Sammy, his brother. Sam and Jess were all for bringing back nature into the modern life. They ate “organic” whenever they could. Dean disagreed. Just because a food company could smack a fancy label on it didn’t mean the food was homegrown goodness. Human bodies just weren’t built to live past a hundred years. Dean figured he’d live to see seventy-five or eighty, but the prime of his life was right now. If he wanted some processed artificially sweetened fruit-flavored goodness, then he was going get it and enjoy it. Dean reasoned that when he was old with missing teeth and his mind was going- well, he’d think back on that awesome pie and still enjoy the memory of it.

Dean did the math in his head. It was about another week an a half before his sugar quota reset and he could have a real slice of pie. Sam always complained about Dean blowing his alcohol and sugar quotas within the first week, but with a job like law enforcement Dean figured they made a mistake in calculating his rations.

People needed the city governments to regulate resources. There were nine billion individuals on Earth and without the regulations people just didn’t know how to be civil. Without the laws the way they were there wouldn’t be anybody looking out for the little guy, the regular Joe. History had proved it time and time again. The way the laws were written the state owned everything, the city regulated it, and the people were just the grease that kept the wheels going. The mayor hadn’t had a raise in 200 years. Inflation had slowed to a crawl. Unemployment wasn’t tolerated. Homelessness wasn’t an even option. Instead you were sent to the barracks.

Dean remembered the barracks from his childhood. A communal existence just bearable enough to exist on and that’s what you did. You existed. His family (himself, brother and declassified father) didn’t have any privileges. Dean didn’t know the details, but after his mother had died in a freak accident, he was four and his brother just a baby, his dad just stopped caring. The man withdrew into himself, stopped caring about his work, and didn’t pay much attention to anything beyond the bare minimum with his kids. It didn’t take long for his employer to find the grounds to dismiss him.

In the modern age you didn’t get fired, axed, or laid off. You got “declassified”. The word was supposed to be an encouragement. It was supposed to be a reminder that, given the proper effort and following through on the proper channels, one could become reclassified. John Winchester never did. He died declassified when Dean was 17. After jumping through some hoops and Bobby pulling some strings, Dean was able to graduate early and enter the police academy. Once he graduated he took custody of Sammy who had been made a ward of the state after their father’s death. Bobby and Ellen had been supportive, but neither was eligible to adopt Sam because they weren’t together at the time and Ellen was a single parent.

The rain stared to let up drawing Dean out of his thoughts. “Bobby,” he said. “You’ve talked about everything except what you called me in here for. It’s making me nervous.”   

“I’m getting to it,” Bobby grumbled.

“Do me a favor and just come right out then.” Dean told him. “Is it more trouble with the A’s?”

“In a way,” Bobby admitted. He tapped the glass. “I didn’t install these to let the light in. I did it to let the city in so I could look at it and wonder what’ll happen after I retire.”

“You’re too stubborn to retire, old man.”

Bobby snorted but didn’t deny it.

Outside the city of spires reached skyward as if stretching out a desperate hand up to a faceless god, begging to be pulled free from the Earth and sin. Up and up the towers grew, faceless, windowless and as undistinguished as the A’s expressionless faces. The city’s lifeblood, its people, moved along the tubes and ramps that connected the towers in tight crowds. It was a medium sized city. 159,908,212 residents lived in Sioux Falls and the commissioner was responsible for the safety of every one.

“In a few moments, when the rain clears, you can see Sterling Town.”

Dean blinked and glanced north into the gray mists that still covered half the city. “I know what Sterling Town looks like,” He said.

“I like the view from here.” Bobby defended grumpily. “Unlike us they build out instead of up. Each family has their own living unit and some space in between. One family, one house. In the old days they called them, ‘subdivisions’. Have you ever talked with a colonist, Dean?”

“Once or twice.”

“I might just be getting philosophical in my old age,” Bobby began. “But it always seems like its ‘we’ and ‘them’. Always, even in history.”

Dean shrugged. “So? Colonists have their own worlds. They can do whatever the hell they want, but there’s no way you can convince nine billion Earth natives to pack up and spread out in little white domes. We’re too set in our ways.”

“Not everybody is tolerant of the differences.” Bobby reminded him.

“Yeah, so what?”

“A colonist was killed three days ago.”

Dean’s blood turned cold. “A virus?” he tested hopefully. Colonists took great pride in having “bred out” susceptibility to diseases. The irony of an Earth bug doing a colonist in wouldn’t have been lost on the commissioner.

“Yeah, a new breed of virus that kills its victims with a shot to the chest.” Bobby drawled sarcastically.

“A colonist?” Dean asked again incredulously.

“Yup.”

“Who? How?!”

“Colonists say it was a Terrestrian.”

“That’s impossible!”

“Why?” Bobby asked. “You don’t like them. I don’t like them. Who on Earth does? Somebody just liked them a little less than what was healthy.”

Dean frowned. “Is this some kind of joke? A colonist was killed three days ago. They think it was one of ours and nobody’s said anything about it in the news. Nobody’s said anything! The city would implode with that kind of gossip.”

Bobby groaned. “They’re keeping this quiet, Dean. Real quiet. I spent the last two days in Washington with the mayor and the head of Terrestrial Bureau of Investigations.”

“What did the TBI’s say?”

“It’s our investigation.” Bobby said. “Sterling is within Sioux Falls city limits.”

“What’s the catch?”

“The colonists requested to invoke extraterritorial rights.” Bobby advised. “They want one their own to help with the investigation.”

“Great. Just great.” Dean threw his arms up and moved to sit back down. “What you meant to say is it’s their investigation. Not ours. Jesus, Bobby. Why not just let them run the show?”

“Because if my train hadn’t been delayed that morning I would have been the one who discovered the body!” Bobby shouted. He instantly calmed down. “I had an appointment with Mr. Novak.”

“The vic?” Dean asked horrified. Bobby nodded.

“I was off by five minutes,” Bobby said hauntedly, “They met me at the station. It was brutal, real brutal.”

Dean murmured sympathetically.

“It’s a tight spot, Dean.” Bobby sighed. “If they wanted to, the colonists could hold their own investigations and send whatever reports back to their home government. The outer worlds could sue for indemnity.”

“I get it, okay.” Dean replied. “We don’t want their soldiers walking around like they own the place because the colonists think they need the extra protection.”

“The thing is, Dean,” Bobby sat down at his desk and rubbed his temples. “I’m not so sure they don’t need the protection. People don’t like colonists or their A’s. It’s as simple as that. Factories are being attacked by arsonists. There are workers’ riots in Moscow and Berlin. Protest marches in New York. If the discontented become organized then we’ll have a real problem on our hands.”

Dean’s heart palpitated as he came to realize the scale of the situation. He cleared his throat.

“Why doesn’t the TBI handle it then? They could-“

“TBI won’t touch it with a ten foot pole.” Bobby interrupted. He gave Dean a hard gaze. “If this thing goes south, boy, we all lose our jobs.”

“All of us?” Dean pretended that his voice hadn’t cracked when he said it. “What’ll they do then? Pull some fresh faces out of the academy? How do they plan to replace over fifty trained officers?”

“The A’s, Dean.” Bobby said. “They have the A’s.”

“What?”

“Don’t kid yourself,” Bobby warned. “ _A. Sami_ was just the start. The A's could do your job and mine. We’d be declassified and I don’t know about you, but I’m not sure I'd even be hired to make _deliveries_ at this age.”

“When did all this talk about replacement come up,” Dean demanded.

“It’s been happening,” Bobby told him. “For the last 25 years. Ever since the colonists came back to reconnect with Earth, it’s been happening. It starts at the lower jobs and works its way up.” He pointed a finger at Dean’s nose. “But if we play our cards right we might just save our hides and prove what an invaluable resource human ingenuity is. It’ll be a big break for you.”

“What.”

“I’m putting you in charge of the investigation.” Bobby clarified.

“Me? I’m only Class 5!” Dean protested. “This is way above me!”

“You want to be Class 6.” Bobby pointed out. “Here’s your chance to make the grade.”

“There’s half a dozen men ranked above me who are more than qualified,” Dean argued although a Class 6 rating was more than tempting. It meant he could finally move out. Well technically, it was Sam and Jess who had moved in to his family unit until Sammy could work his way up in the law firm. With a classification upgrade Dean could just sign over the living unit to Sam and apply for a nice single’s unit. “Yeah, I want it, but what happens if I can’t crack the case?”

“You’ll be fine.” Bobby assured him. “You’re one of my best guys and someone I can trust unequivocally. Plus I need a favor.”

“What kind of favor?” Dean asked.

“The colonists agreed to let us handle the investigation. They promised not to go public.” Bobby paused. “But they want their agent to assist. He’ll be your partner.”

“Sounds like they don’t trust us.”

“It’s a tough situation for them too,” Bobby explained. “If this gets botched they’ll be in trouble with their governments.”

“I’ll take a colonist as my partner.” Dean agreed. “Was that it?”

“You got a big place right? 3b2b family unit? Three adults, no kids?” Bobby asked.

Dean paled. “What? No. Not happening, Bobby. The guy can stay in Sterling or a hotel. I’m not bringing him home.”

“Do this for me and I’ll do what I can to bump you up to Class 7.” Bobby promised urgently. “He won’t be any trouble.”

“Fine.” Dean sulked. “I’ll do it.”

“Great. Good.” Bobby adjusted his tie. “There’s just one more thing.”

“What is it?” Dean asked tersely.

“The guy’s name…” Bobby said slowly.

“What about it?” Dean asked.

“The colonists are being really particular about it.” Bobby fumbled with his explanation, “The guy they’re supplying isn’t… well he’s not exactly… ” Bobby trailed off hesitantly.

Dean jumped out his seat. “Now hold on a god damn minute!”

“Dean,” Bobby pleaded. “There’s a lot on the line here. I can’t trust anybody on this but you. You’ll be partnered with one of their A’s. If he breaks the case before we do, then he can report our incompetence to his superiors and we’re screwed! I need your full cooperation on this and I need you to be the one to break the case. Not him.”

The detective weighed his options. The gamble was worth it. A Class 7 upgrade was worth it. Dean didn't find any fault in his skills as a detective. So what it all really came down to was if he was willing to work with one of "them".

“Okay.” Dean drew in a deep, resigning breath. “I'll do it. What’s his name?”

“ _A. Castiel_.”

“Drop the bull, Bobby.” Dean snapped. “I’m working with him so let’s call him by what he is. _Android Castiel._ ”

 


	2. Round Trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plain clothes Detective Dean goes to pick up his new partner. His new _android_ partner. Meanwhile citizens are less than thrilled with the city's increasing use of the A's.

Most Terrestrians were at least somewhat antediluvian in their thinking. People liked to reflect back to a time when Earth was The World, before it became one of many.

Earth stood out in the interstellar crowd, but for all the wrong reasons. In the eyes of colonists Earth was behind the times. The colonists were offering a service by bringing Earth and its citizens up to date. Why shouldn’t Earth be overjoyed by the return of their prodigal sons and daughters? Especially when they brought back with them resources, technology, and the gift of development? Obviously a mutually beneficial partnership was the best course of action all around, but people just didn’t see it that way. It went against their very nature.

“Excuse me,” a woman dressed in business attire squeezed past Dean in a rush to find a good seat on the express train’s upper level.

It didn’t take long for Dean to lose her in the crowd. It was the lunch rush. Several people ran errands at this time and saved their food quotas for later. Experts claimed the habit of skipping lunch was unhealthy and Dean agreed, but there was that word again. “Experts.”

To Dean the word meant “obtrusive” more than anything else. Experts threw out flashy words like “higher production” and “adjustment period” with regards to the A's. Yeah, humans could adjust. Dean remembered “adjusting” to eating porridge everyday for twelve years because the barracks didn’t have diners. Nobody ever starved. Starvation was impossible because the porridge formula had every nutrient the human body needed. Unfortunately, the government regulations didn’t account for the lack of flavor. Dean always thought the stuff had a lemony aftertaste.

The outer worlds didn’t have to deal the logistics of managing nine billion people and they had tight immigration laws to keep it that way. Food, clothing, medical care, and gainful employment needed to be provided for all. Experts believed Earth to be at maximum capacity. The average city size was a little over a hundred million. 100,000,000 homes complete with a full kitchen and bathrooms weren’t as efficient as 100,000,000 living units with communal shower rooms and diners. Besides, Dean actually _liked_ diner food.

“Go figure,” Dean muttered under his breath. Not that anyone could hear him above the constant roar of hundreds of people chatting on their mobiles, shoes stomping on platforms, and clothes rubbing against eachother. It was a wonder Dean could even hear himself think

He sighed. Living units were cheaper, too, even before the quota system was put in place. The current system hadn’t been forced, but a natural progression of society to move away from the town and village model. Neighborhoods became “sections”, but the neighborly sentiment was still there. It wasn’t as clinical or cold as the words sounded in the beginning.

Dean's sister-in-law, Jess, had grown up in a section. Dean and Sam had lived in one before their father’s declassification. In sections all the adults were good friends or at the very least civil to each other. Children had no shortage of watchful eyes keeping them out of trouble. In a section you could be as personable or as private as you wanted. Dean was an active participant in his section’s community meetings and part of the section watch committee. Although that was mostly due to is ex-fiancee’s influence and later Sam’s

The stress of higher populations drove Earth’s citizens to be more individualistic. Fewer than two out of every five couples chose to have children and to have more than two children total was almost unheard of. There wasn’t any law against it. That’s just how things were and since everything was owned by the state anyway, wealth wasn’t passed down through bloodlines like it was in the past. A child could have a certain prestige and education privileges if their parents had a good job, but ultimately the individual was responsible for their own success.

Dean had almost been a father. His ex, Lisa, was a single parent and Dean got along great with Ben. They had been living together and with both their quotas Dean had been able to sign for a family unit instead of a single’s. Eventually, however, Lisa had wised up to how difficult living with a cop was. Plain clothes officers didn’t have the protection of a uniform and Dean had more than his fair share of close calls.

“Doors now closing,” the automated voice advised as Dean changed trains. He puffed out his chest a little to give himself more breathing room among the packed bodies.

It was standing room only for Dean. If he had that Class 7 rating he could upgrade to first class travel. Residents with Class 10 and higher could have private cars.

Dean’s father, John Winchester, had been a Class 8 mechanic with special privileges because he worked on military vehicles. Dean fondly remembered riding his dad’s private car, one his dad had fixed up himself, to the other cities and on family vacations. They had taken a family vacation just after Sammy was born and before his mother’s accident. Dean often wondered what had happened to it afterwards.

Glancing up as the signs and advertisements Dean realized there weren’t any signs for Sterling Town.

“Figures,” he muttered as he changed trains for the third time. He noticed there was significantly more room the closer he got to Sterling. If you had business there, you knew the way. If you didn’t, you didn’t care.

More recently Sterling Town had become relaxed in their security. Ten years earlier Dean would have had to pass through a security check that included a weapon’s check, complete medical examination, and a decontamination cycle. Colonists had been fearful of Earthly viruses at first.

It wasn’t really an issue until the barriers went up. Natives of Earth felt violated that out worlders had carved out a piece of the planet for themselves. The town’s barriers were just as offensive. Who did they think they were? Colonists, whose ancestors left earth, _abandoned_ Earth, hundreds of years before, what claim could they possibly have now? Well, according to their lawyers the colonists did have a claim and they had the military power of their home governments to back up that claim.

Earth didn’t have the immigration restrictions of the outer worlds because nobody thought the colonists would come back. The reason people had left Earth in the first place because they couldn’t or didn’t want to “adjust” to the tight quarters and regulations of the cities, not when there were whole worlds to spread out on.

Why colonists felt the need to disrupt the status quo wasn’t a question Dean could answer. In his mind the colonists could keep their domes and their progress. Why couldn’t they just leave Earth alone? That’s what they were doing anyway until twenty-five years ago. Where did this sudden need to modernize Earth come from? Did they really think they could just set their feet down and start fixing everything? His dad used to have a saying about 'fixing something that wasn’t broken'.

“Now arriving at Sterling Town,” the automated voice announced.

Dean sighed and stepped off. He had spent too much time thinking and working himself up. Now he had to meet his new partner. His new _android_ partner and the thought alone pissed him off.

He flashed his badge to a security guard who waved him forward. He passed chrome ticket gates that were shiny and almost unused. It seemed like the colonists had less of a reason to leave Sterling Town than terrestrians had to visit.

“So why even bother coming here in the first place,” Dean growled. He was out right scowling as he approached a colonist at the town’s entrance.

The colonist was dressed in an Earth style suit a size too big for the man. Likewise the man’s coat was too large for his frame. If Dean didn’t know better he would have guessed that the man had dressed in a hurry in the only Earth attire on hand at the time. The theory also explained why the man’s neck tie was skewed.

“I’m Detective Dean Winchester.” Dean announced and flashed his badge, “Sioux Falls Police Department Class 5. I have a meeting with _A. Castiel_.” He check is watch. “I’m early. Can somebody let him know I’m here?”

The man stared at him unblinkingly.

“That is unnecessary,” the man said. “I have been waiting for you. Thank you for your timeliness, Detective Winchester.”

Dean’s mouth open and closed again. He looked the man over from dark head to toe and then finally settled on the man’s blue, blue eyes.

“You’re _A. Castiel_?”

“Yes.”

“ _You’re_ my partner? I thought the A initial meant…”

“Yes. I am an Android of Sterling Town. Were you not briefed before hand?”

Dean blinked a few times. “It’s just… You don’t look like an android.”

It shouldn’t have freaked Dean out as much as it did. Castiel looked like a colonist. He was tall, medium build, and tanned. He was dressed like a terrestrian, but the 'more-advanced-than-thou' colonist thing was still there. Dean thought he also detected the slight odor of disinfectant.

Castiel listened and then nodded in understanding. “I see. You were expecting something akin to one of your inferior Earth androids.”

 _Knew it_ , Dean thought while squinting at the android. ' _More-advanced-than-thou_.'

Dean wiped a sweaty palm on his jacket and then offered it to Castiel. “Sorry, I really wasn’t sure what to expect. It’s nice to meet you.”

Castiel returned the gesture closing with just the right amount of pressure before pulling back. Dean noted the android’s skin was warm and soft. It didn’t feel like the hard, bone-white plastic he was used to. _A. Samandriel’s_ movements were jerky. His face fixed in a placid expression and his mouth open and unmoving when he talked.

Castiel’s movements were fluid. His lips moved with his syllables and Dean caught glimpses of a pink articulating tongue. For added character Castiel had a black stubble. Dean suppressed a shudder as he caught himself somewhere between fascinated and unhinged.

“You still seem uncomfortable,” Castiel said. “If we are to be partners I will expect you to be frank with me, Detective Winchester.”

“Yeah, sorry. Still getting used to the whole…” Dean waved his hand to indicate Castiel’s near perfect human body. “Are all colonist androids like… _this_?”

“We are each given unique individual characteristics, as with humans.” Castiel explained. “I am aware that Earth culture in general maintains a staunch prejudice against androids. It is only logical to use an agent with pronounced human characteristics if we are to avoid unnecessary conflict in this case.”

“Well,” Dean gave a wry smirk. “That’s certainly true, Cas.”

“Cas?”

“Uh, yeah.” Dean frowned. “ _A. Castiel_ is a bit of a mouth full.”

“Oh. It is customary on my home planet that coworkers call each other by their given names.” Castiel nodded. “I may refer to you as such?”

“Uh, just ‘Dean’ is fine.” Dean told him. “I’d prefer it, actually.”

“Very well, Dean.” Cas moved closer to the detective. “We should be on our way if the introductions are completed.”

“Yeah, okay.” Dean agreed.

Dean still hadn’t quite regained his balance after the curve ball known as _A. Castiel_. He led the way mechanically back down to the train platform. They didn’t have to wait long because there was a train every fifteen minutes at peak hours.

“The train system is constructed like a spider web.” Dean explained with a touch of pride. “It’s very efficient. The express ways go from the center to outwards and back. The local ways loop around the city in the different sections. At the very center are City Hall and the administration buildings. Then the business sector wraps around it. The residential towers are grouped together in little pockets. Once you get out far enough you reach the warehouse district and manufacturers. Beyond that is the wilderness.”

“I was made aware of all that during my briefing.” Castiel said, “Along with any other germane information.”

Dean rolled his eyes half at himself for treating Castiel like a tourist he was supposed to impress. “You talk like a thesaurus. You know that?”

Cas’s expression shifted indicating the android was internally calculating something. “You mean that as a rhetorical question,” He stated.

Dean sighed. “Yes, Cas. I do.”

The train had stopped briefly at a platform next to a shopping block when Dean registered a disturbance in his peripheral vision. A large crowd was gathered where Dean knew a mob wouldn’t be loitering this time of day. Dean risked a side glance at Castiel who simultaneously turned to meet his gaze quizzically. Dean gave him a quick nod and exited the train.

The lowest levels of the residential buildings, Dean’s included, had various retail department stores. A group of what Dean suspected to be unhappy people had gathered outside one of the shops. Unlike the casual buzz of the train commuters, these people spoke in a low ominous hush.

“What’s going on?” Dean asked in his best police officer voice.

One guy turned. “I don’t know. I just got here.”

Dean rolled his eyes, “So helpful.” He pushed his way into the crowd ordering the people to disperse and go home.

“They’ve got A’s in there!” someone complained.

“Somebody should dismantle those abominations.”

“I’d do it.” Somebody else muttered.

“Break it up and go home!” Dean ordered. “Police! Move along folks. There’s nothing to see here!”

Castiel kept pace with Dean as they shoved loitering pedestrians aside. Dean was worried a riot would break out. Generally people were boring, like flour, but when put under heat and pressure even baking flour could be explosive. Pressure from the government plus the hot topic of androids made people very volatile especially if they were faced with the prospect of declassification.

“We want humans! Flesh and blood!” a young man shouted. More joined in on his chant, “Flesh and blood! Flesh and blood! Flesh and blood!”

Dean groaned as he made it to the entrance of the shop. The manager had the foresight to secure the door to keep the conflict contained. Dean swiped his police ID card through the lock and let himself in. Castiel closed the doors behind them.

There were considerably fewer people inside than outside, but the argument was far more heated. The participants in the dispute turned their heads when Dean and Cas walked in. Dean flashed his badge and was surprised to see Castiel pull his own badge and credentials out of his coat. Dean didn't know if it was a stroke of genius programming to make Castiel appear more human or a momentary glitch, but Dean calmly leaned over and righted the badge before replacing placing it back in the android's grip. The detective was pretty sure most people didn't read upside down.

Their professional image must not have been too badly damaged by the slip-up because the manager gave a relived exhale. "Officers."

“What seems to be the problem?” Dean asked as he stowed his badge.

There were six Earth model androids standing at attention in the checkout area along with six women including the manager. The manager was a short, middle aged woman with her black hair tied up professionally. The other women were just a little older and dressed smartly, but not in business wear. Dean could only assume from their slightly gaudy fashion sense that they belonged to the upper classifications or their husbands did.

“I-“ the manager was about to speak when one of the women cut her off.

“I’m a customer!” the woman stated as if Dean couldn't figure that out by looking. “Why can’t I have human clerk? Why do I have to be waited on by those… those _machines_?”

The manager looked at Dean helplessly. “They were issued to me by the city. I can wait on her myself if I have to, but I can’t wait on everybody! These men are perfectly capable-“

“Men?!” The woman shrieked. “They’re not men! They’re _robots_!”

Dean visibly flinched at the word not necessarily for its vulgarity, but because he had been part of the anti-robot protests a few years prior. The protests along with the barrier riots had been two of several movements against the colonists setting up shop and the city purchasing the A’s. Bobby had been pissed after Dean was arrested with a few hundred other protesters.

Earth already had robots. Outside the cities, farms and mines needed to be managed. Robots were more efficient and yielded a bigger output. Robotics had been invented and developed on Earth. Space travel technology and robotics had been racing each other for centuries.

Now, because the two technologies were practically inseparable, the colonists felt a special ownership over robotics. It was that hubris that pushed the colonists to take it one step further and create the A’s. Robots didn’t have positronic brains, the central processing unit of an android. The primary division between robots and androids was the A’s were self aware. So there it was. _Cogito, ergo sum._ Because of that there were policies in place to protect androids, not necessarily as people, but as expensive government property.

“I’ll tell you what they do,” the woman continued. “They take away jobs from hard working, deserving people. Perfectly capable humans are wasting away in the barracks, so I refuse to be waited on by robots.” She poked a long nail in the chest of the manager and asked. “What happens when it’s you? What will you do when you’re the one declassified and replaced by _that_?” She pointed at the clerks.

The manager looked over at Dean for guidance. The detective’s voice was caught in his throat. Before that morning he would have had a pre-prepared spiel ready to go. Two hours ago he could have whipped up a mini speech about how an android didn’t have old fashioned human gumption. The android clerks were perfectly capable for their duties, keeping track of stock, memorizing prices, and measuring customer sizes probably more accurately than a human could. Dean would have laughed off the idea of an android trying to settle customer disputes and appease whiney patrons.

Dean was painfully aware of _A. Castiel’s_ presence at his side and wondered if even a plain clothes detective like himself was just as replaceable as a clerk. He remembered the punishing existence of the barracks and his father who had died declassified.

“Let’s not make this a bigger issue, lady.” Dean held out a hand in what he hoped was a calming gesture. “The A’s aren’t going to hurt you.”

“Damn right, they’re not.” The woman snapped. “I came here expecting to be treated like a human being.”

The detective’s temper flared. “Well if you had just been civil and let yourself be waited on, you could have been in and out already.”

“Well!” the woman put her hands on her hips. “Maybe you think you can treat me like a second class citizen, but I know my rights! I think it’s time the government realized there’s more than just machines here on Earth.”

Dean felt trapped. A row of monitors lined up on both sides of the front doors offered him a view to what was happening outside. Unlike Bobby's office windows this setup was more common and more private. At the shop's entrance he could see the crowd hadn’t dispersed like he asked and had actually doubled in size. At least a hundred people were gathered.

“What is procedure in this case?” Castiel asked suddenly making Dean jump.

“Uh,” Dean looked around uncertainly at the parties involved. “This isn’t a by-the-book kind of thing.”

“What is the law then?”

“The clerks were assigned by the city.” Dean said. They were whispering while Dean tried to maintain the guise of a no-nonsense cop. “There’s nothing illegal about that. The woman is annoying, but she hasn’t broken any laws yet either. But until we get this settled we can’t do anything about _that_.” He pointed a thumb in the direction of the people gathered outside shore front.

“Then just tell the woman to be waited on or leave.” Castiel said reasonably.

“But there’s a mob outside.” Dean hissed. “We’ll have to call the riot squad.”

“That is unnecessary.” Castiel said. “Citizens should only require one officer of the law to direct them.” He turned to the manager. “Open the doors.”

“What?” The manager protested and looked at Dean.

Dean didn’t meet her gaze. He wanted to grab Castiel by the shoulders and demand to know what was going on in that positronic brain of his, but if two officers openly quarreled, it would kill any last hope for a peaceful solution.

“I order you, under the authority of the law, to open the doors.” Casitel reiterated.

“Fine!” the manager said. “But I’m holding the city responsible for any damages!”

Dean held his breath. In past riots he had seen, A’s were literally ripped apart by the seams until they were reduced to metal scraps and wires while their postitronic brains were kicked around like footballs. It wasn't necessarily a bloody affair in the literal sense, but it still made him sick to his stomach to watch. The A's weren't human, but they hadn't done anything worthy of violence against them. They were just doing what they had been created to do.

As soon as the doors were open men and women crowded in with a cheer of victory.


	3. One Man is Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Instead of calling the riot squad, Castiel orders the doors to be opened and the angry mob rushes in.

The android clerks by some primitive sense of preservation lifted their arms to shield their faces as the crowd flooded through the doors. Their manager moved to hide behind Dean who brushed a hand against his concealed service weapon. He wouldn’t draw, of course. It was an act of habit for comfort.

The mob was only after the A’s. Once they had completed their metal massacre, the security footage would be used to make arrests and Dean could report to Bobby that his new partner had a few screws loose in his. He had no idea what Cas had been thinking. Two plain clothes officers weren’t enough to stop a raging mob.

The woman who had been at the center of the dispute shrieked in alarm. Her face fell into disbelief at how out of hand things had become. The possibility of such a large backlash hadn’t crossed her mind. People pushed passed her roughly almost to the point of ruining her nice clothes. Her shrills did nothing to distract the mob from their objective.

The manager was yelling in panic, “Stop them, Officers!”

Dean flinched as Castiel raised his voice to be heard above the crowd. It was an effortless act like turning a volume dial up on a music player. Dean was once again reminded of the inhumanity of his new partner.

“The next man who moves will be shot,” Castiel said and drew out his service weapon which Dean noted to be slightly smaller than his own.

“Get him!” Somebody at the back of the mob shouted, but nobody moved. Castiel’s threat managed to stall them.

Castiel deftly lifted himself on to a checkout counter to stand above the crowd. Under the artificial lights his skin had an unearthly glow to it. He stood poised with authority like an angel of vengeance ready to punish the wicked.

“This is not a taser in my hands,” he warned them effectively making his word the new law. “This service weapon is very deadly and I will not fire any warning shots. _This_ is your warning.”

“He can’t be serious!” a civilian protested and Dean wished that were true. Like everyone else he had frozen at the android’s command. He told himself he wasn’t afraid of Castiel. He was afraid any action that he took would escalate the situation. He couldn’t risk anyone getting hurt.

“I am being very serious,” Castiel told them. “Do I not look serious? Is there anything about my appearance that tells you that I am anything but the up most serious?”

No one responded to that.

After nodding affirmatively Castiel stepped down off the counter and told them, “I am now going to walk out of here. When I reach the door I will shoot anyone who has not returned to going about their business.” He pointed to the source of the trouble, the woman. “This woman here-”

She half gasped and half sobbed, “No! I didn’t do anything!”

“This woman will stay here and be waited on,” Castiel declared firmly.

Dean watched as the mob parted and let the two officers walk back to the door. There was a heavy aura, but it wasn’t a threatening one. The group of women comforted their companion and allowed the A’s to wait on them. The manager was shaken up as well, but got back to work after watching the trouble makers meekly be served by the android clerks. All things considered the situation could have ended much worse.

The officer duo stepped out of the shop just in time to see a squad car pull up after all the action was over. The nimble vehicle easily maneuvered around pedestrians. Civilians mostly traveled by train because the system was efficient enough to get them within a ten minute walk to their destination. Service vehicles were the only kind of cars allowed in the city. Privately owned vehicles were awarded no such luxury and used primarily to travel from city to city.

Dean didn’t feel like talking with the uniformed officers. If word got back to Bobby that he had already screwed up in less than day… Dean tried to reason with himself that it wasn’t his fault. He hadn’t been the one who issued an android a badge and gun. He hadn’t asked for an android partner.

But he should have stopped Castiel the first chance he had instead of letting things play out like they did. He should have called a riot squad.

Stuffing his sense of guilt down for a minute Dean greeted the uniformed officers with an award winning smile. They had been called because of complaints of a crowd blocking the walkways so it was easy to get rid of them. Castiel was standing idle and thankfully out of the way. As soon as the uniforms left Dean indicated they should be on their way. Once they were around the block and safely out sight Dean grabbed the android by the front of his shirt.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing threatening civilians?!” he demanded furiously.

“I wouldn’t have fired under any circumstances,” Castiel defended. “I am incapable of inflicting harm on humans. I was merely putting on a show of authority.”

“With a gun?” Dean snapped. “What if they had recognized you as an A yourself?”

“I had confidence that they wouldn’t.” Castiel replied.

Dean got the distinct impression the android was missing the point. “We’re not supposed to take that kind of a gamble.” He tightened his grip on the android’s shirt. “You were asking about protocol earlier? Calling for backup is protocol.”

“I disagree, Dean.” Castiel told him.

Dean frowned and was about to open his mouth when the android interrupted.

“I was briefed on the habits of terrestrians,” Castiel explained.  “Unlike the outer worlds they are trained from birth to obey authority. Your wish to call for back up is also a display of the need for superior authority to take responsibility.”

That earned him glare from the detective.

“My actions,” Castiel continued calmly. “Allowed the situation to be solved with minimal resources. As you say, I was very efficient. You do value efficiency, yes?”

There was logic in the android’s words and Dean didn’t like where that logic was going. He changed tactics.

“Would you have been allowed to pull that kind of stunt on your own planet?” Dean asked.

“Irrelevant,” Castiel told him. “The circumstances would have been drastically different if we were on Eden.”

“Would you or would you not be allowed to pull a stunt like that?” Dean asked again more severely.

“No, because my bluff wouldn’t have worked in that case. I would have been recognized as an android.” If he was human Castiel probably would have gotten tired of repeating himself. “Additionally, the prejudice Earth inhabitants exhibit towards androids is not as prevalent on other worlds. An incident of this nature would be unlikely to occur. That is why your question is irrelevant.”

“You’re an android, Cas.” Dean said. “Just like those clerks.”

“That is obvious.” Castiel said flatly.

“Meaning your not human!” Dean snarled. “So let me try to clue you in. What you just pulled was a stupid move and I should have stopped you! So we’re not going to mention this to anybody, got it?”

Castiel frowned. “Are you not required to make a report?”

“Do you have any idea how much trouble we’d be in?” Dean asked. “I don’t know how you even have a badge and an incident like this could cost me mine! We do not pull stunts!” Dean stared the android down. “This didn’t happen. Understand?”

The android looked contemplative and confused. “Very well,” he agreed. Oddly enough Dean didn’t feel reassured.

“Right.” Dean released the android’s shirt. He checked his watch. “It’s late enough that Jess should be home at least.”

“Jess?”

“My sister-in-law.”

 

* * *

 

Dean exited the elevators to his home section, AE. The building labeled floors by letters starting with A-Z then AA-AZ followed by BA-BZ and so on, placing Dean’s living quarters on the 31st floor.  The residential buildings had an average of 100 floors and each floor had three separate sections designated for singles, couples, and families and a final section dedicated to communal areas for dining, recreation, and bathing. If Dean turned left he would have found his way to the dining room which would have made his empty stomach very happy, but instead he turned right out of habit and paused in front of the double doors leading to the men’s locker and shower rooms. _A. Castiel_ was just a half beat behind.

Another man squeezed past them and slid his keycard through the lock. The man shut the doors behind him without sparing Dean a glance. Had the man held the door for Dean, the detective would have been seriously offended. It was considered bad manners to acknowledge another’s presence in the locker and shower rooms. An exception to that, of course, was a parent with children. Eventually, however, the children caught on to the custom and learned to bathe quickly in silence. Socializing was reserved for the other communal areas.

“You should wait here,” Dean told _A. Castiel_ as he pulled out his key card.

“Do you intend on washing?” Castiel asked.

Dean flinched. _Damn, android._

Out of all those briefings the colonist claimed to have had, one of them should have included Earth etiquette.

“Yeah, I’d rather shower now when it’s not crowded.” Dean explained and glanced at his watch again. “Most people are eating dinner at this time.”

The android tilted its head slightly indicating it was mentally processing something. Dean got the impression that the phrase “insufficient data” had popped up a few times during the android’s musings. The detective’s theory about both the etiquette and the data was confirmed when Castiel asked, “Is it customary that I wait outside?”

Dean coughed uncomfortably. “W-why wouldn’t you go in if you don’t-? Look just wait here, okay?”

“Oh, I see.” Castiel nodded solemnly. “You are correct that I do not sweat as you do and therefore are not required to bathe as regularly as a human would.”

“Hey!” Dean hissed and glanced around to make sure no one was around to hear their conversation.

“But my hands do get dirty and I would like to wash them.”Castiel held out his hands.

The android’s palms were pink in color with creases in all the proper places. Dean imagined Cas’s technicians carefully crafting each line like artisans. One of Sam’s humanities textbooks had a picture of the ancient Egyptian god, K-something with a sheep’s head, creating a man out of clay on a potter’s wheel while another god with a bird’s head tallied the number of years the man was going to live. Did Cas’s technicians feel like gods when they built him or was it just another day at the office for them? Did it ever cross their minds that they were building a machine to take the place of a human? If Dean was declassified would they just give Castiel a tune up and give him Dean’s badge? The complexity of the issue made his head spin. What Dean needed at that moment was fifteen minutes of hot water and a fantasy blonde.

“Fine, you can come in.” Dean relented. “Don’t talk to anybody. Don’t look at anybody. It’s rude while we’re inside, understand?”

Castiel nodded. Dean slid his card, pushed open the door and shoved the android out of his mind.

Dean hurried to his personal locker, the one assigned to him by unit number. He punched in the number combination, Ben’s birthday. Dean had never gotten around to changing it. He stripped out of his clothes and set the grimiest pieces aside for a quick wash. One good thing about being a plain clothes detective was he didn’t have a uniform to wash every other day.

After throwing his clothes in one of the machines to be washed, Dean stepped into a shower stall. Both the soap and shampoo were the scentless kind and advertized as gentle on sensitive skin. The first wave of water was lukewarm, just a taste of what was to come. When the minute was up Dean rubbed in the soap and shampoo.

A couple years back the city government had contemplated tighter water restrictions. They wanted to reduce shower time from a 15 minute rinse to a 12 minute one. Fortunately the city psychologists had put a stop to the bill before it could be passed and the city settled on a one minute pre-rinse and kept the 15 minute rise. For that Dean was grateful as the pressure stream beat down on his shoulders encouraging them to relax. 15 minutes was probably the only personal time would have the rest of the evening.

Once he was clean and changed into loungewear Dean met up with Cas back in the main hall.

“Any problems?” Dean asked.

“None at all.” Castiel said.


	4. Meet the Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel meets Sam and Jess

Dean stepped over the threshold and received an immediate hug from Jess. The detective was caught off guard but returned the gesture with a friendly pat. When his sister-in-law pulled back Jess looked him up and down carefully like she was examining a patient.

“You’re not hurt are you?” She asked worriedly.

“No, why?” Dean looked around.

Their living quarters were standard sized for a family unit and efficiently compact, but not overly so that they felt claustrophobic. There was a single family restroom with a grooming counter and sink, a master bedroom shared by Sam and Jess, Dean’s room, and an extra bedroom they used for storage. The entryway was short and broke off immediately into the common room. The walls were an off-white color with lights tucked away in various corners of the room in an architect’s effort to make the lighting look natural or at the very least non-synthetic. Residents could decorate their rooms with pictures or art work as long as it was minimal. Dean had heard rumors that the upper living quarters, the ones reserved for the higher classes, had screens covering their wall to let them turn the whole room into a canvas with personalized furniture. It would have been too expensive, and not to mention wasteful, to allow that luxury on every floor.

Dean realized what was missing.

“Is Sammy home?” He asked.

“He’s getting dinner,” Jess explained. “I saw the broadcast and thought-“

“Whoa, back up,” Dean held his hands up. “What broadcast?”

“Something about a riot at a shoe store.” Jess replied. “It said two plain clothes officers stopped it. Sam mentioned that you were getting a new partner. I thought it might have been you two.”

Dean looked at her with a guilty expression. If she had put two and two together then no doubt Bobby would as well. Hopefully nobody else would be able to tie him to the incident.

“Dean.” Jess’s eyes narrowed. She poked him in the chest. “You promised Sam you’d be more careful!”

“I _am_ careful,” he argued.

“Excuse me.” Castiel interrupted. He had been standing patently behind Dean the whole time so Jess hadn’t even realized he was there.  “Is this a bad time? I don’t want to intrude on family matters.”

Dean sighed. “It’s fine. Come in. Cas, this is Jess. Jess, Cas- er, Castiel.”

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry.” Jess apologized for her lack of manners and shoved Dean out of the way so she could welcome their guest. “It’s nice to meet you, Cas. Make yourself at home.”

“Thank you, Jessica.” Castiel shook her hand hesitantly.

The woman scoffed. “Just ‘Jess’ is fine,” she said.

Castiel frowned. “It is not too informal to call you by a diminutive? Would that not be reserved for your immediate family?”

 “It’s fine,” Jess assured him. She glanced at Dean before looking back at Castiel. “You sure don’t talk like a cop. I always thought detectives were limited to a four letter vocabulary.”

“Hey!”

“Will you be eating with us, Cas?” Jess asked in a more serious tone.

“No, I will be fine. Thank you.” Castiel told her, “I will use the time of your meal to settle in and do some work.”

Jess hid her relief. Although no one in Dean’s family would object to providing for a guest, the food quotas weren’t unlimited. Dean showed Castiel to the storage room. He didn’t bother clearing off the bed since the android didn’t need it for sleep. Instead he pulled the desk away from wall and set it up so that they could sit on either side. Dean would feel much better once the case was solved whether he still had his job or not.

Once they had everything in a functional order Castiel asked, “How secure are we against being overheard?”

“Dean looked at him confused. “Sam’s a lawyer. We know to keep out of each other’s work. Him and Jess will probably be more curious about the colonists than the case.”

“It is not customary to eavesdrop?” Castiel pressed.

“No more than it is looking at somebody in the showers or-“

“Or commit murder?” Castiel interrupted. “That is also against your customs, is it not?”

Dean’s face flushed and he grit his teeth. “You know I’ve just about had it with your arrogant colonist, bull.” He said.

“I’ve hurt your feeling,” the android observed. “It was not my intention. I merely wanted point out that people break customs in defiance. I want to make sure that our exchanges are kept confidential.”

“The building is insulated so nobody outside can hear us.” Dean told him. “My family knows to mind their own business. Who do you think is trying to listen in?”

“We must not underestimate the prospect of an intelligent advisory.” Castiel said.

Dean blinked. “Let’s start at the beginning,” he suggested. “So far all I know is a colonist, James Novak from the planet Eden, was murdered in Sterling town by persons unknown.” He pointed at Castiel. “And you guys don’t think this is an isolated event.”

“That is correct.” Castiel nodded. “It is believed to be tied in with resent sabotage of A. integration projects.”

“So why don’t you guys think it’s an isolated incident?” Dean scratched his head. “It could just as easily have been one extremist who flipped his lid. You saw it yourself today. Terrestrians don’t like androids.”

Castiel listened to him carefully. “In argument against it being the work of a loan fanatic I must point out the time and the target were too perfect not to have been deliberate planning by an organization.”

“There aren’t any political groups advocating violence like this.” Dean waved a hand to make his point. “If that had an ounce of common sense the factory saboteurs would realize killing a colonist is the absolute worst thing they could do to prove their point.”

“You must understand, Dean,” Castiel explained. “When Sterling Town was founded it was taken by our people that Earth willingly adopt an integrated society. Even after the first riots we assumed the shock of the novelty would wear off.”

“Tough cookies,” Dean grumbled without sympathy.

“In general the residents of Sterling Town believe a healthier and more modernized Earth would be beneficial to the galaxy as a whole.” Castiel said, “But not everyone on the Outer Worlds agrees with this.”

That got Dean’s attention. He sat up straighter and asked, “They don’t?”

“Some of the closer worlds believe that a modernized Earth will take an imperial approach to the rest of the galaxy.” The android explained. “They remember the earlier days when they were politically and economically controlled by Earth and fear losing their independence.”

Dean sighed, “Jeeze, that was over a thousand years ago. Are they really worried?”

Castiel smirked. “I am told that humans, because their programming is not preplanned, can be irrational.”

“Believe or not, a little spontaneity has its advantages.” Dean warned.

“So I am told.” Castiel said. “In any case the continual failures on Earth are helping the Nationalist parties on the Outer Worlds build their case. They haven’t forgotten that Earth’s total population is nearly twice that of all the Outer Worlds combined.  Dr. Novak-“

Dean interrupted. “Wait, he was a doctor?”

“Of Sociology with a minor in robotics,” Castiel explained. “A brilliant man.”

“I see. Go on.”

“It is easy to dismiss terrestrials a extremely conservative and unyielding, but Dr. Novak believed this to be a copout.” Castiel said, “He argued that if colonists were to truly understand Earth culture they would have to give up isolation and live among them.”

Dean snorted. “I’m sure that went over well.”

Castiel looked at him confused. “Oh. You were being sarcastic.”

“Sorry, I just have a really hard time picturing a colonist strolling around down town.”

“Indeed.” Castiel agreed. “Even if he were held at gun point Dr. Novak would have refused to enter any of the cities and he knew it. The crowds alone would have been overwhelming. The answers he sought were seemingly out of reach.”

“That sucks.” Dean said. “So what did they… oh. Oh!”

“You realize it then.” Castiel smiled. “Androids are more flexible in that we can be reprogrammed to adapt to an Earth lifestyle and by appearing as biological humans we would have been accepted.”

“Well, I’ll be damned.” Dean chuckled. “Robot spies. That sounds like something out of a 20th century science fiction novel.”

Castiel didn’t get the joke. “I’m just an android. Dr. Novak had been working on the construction and designs for a year. I was the prototype.”

“Wait, so not all colonist androids look like you?”

“Our appearance is determined by our function.” Castiel told him. “Because of my function I require a very human like appearance. At the very least we are more humanoid than those primitive models at the shop. Are all your androids like that?”

“More or less,” Dean admitted. “I take it you don’t approve?”

“Absolutely not,” Castiel said. “Even I find it difficult to accept a mere parody of the human form as an intellectual equal. Surely your factories can do better.”

“I think we like knowing when we’re dealing with a machine and when we’re not.” Dean looked Castiel in the eye and noticed the android’s eyes to be bright and moist like a human’s. The only difference was Castiel’s gaze didn’t waver in the slightest.

“I hope to come to understand that point of view.”

Dean detected what he thought was a hint of sarcasm. Before he could open his mouth and ask, Jess knocked on the door to let him know that Sam, and more importantly food, had finally arrived.

“Come on,” Dean smirked. “You’re supposed to be learning about Earth culture, right?”

He stood up and hesitated a moment before adding, “Just try to remember to blink or they might catch on or something.”

“Oh. Alright.”

The first observation Castiel made about Sam was his height and his excitement at meeting a colonist. The younger brother was much taller than the elder one, but other than that the two appeared to be quite similar and teased each other in the same manner by directing verbal jabs at each other until Jess interviewed by taking them both down a few pegs.

“Wow,” Sam said again while looking at Castiel. “I can’t believe you’re partnered with a colonist, Dean.”

“It is a fair assumption, Sam.” Castiel assured him. “You are correct in believing that most colonists find city conditions adverse. However, we cannot properly communicate if each side is sticking to what they are most comfortable with.”

Dean rolled his eyes. The android proved to be a sneaky bastard by distracting both Sam and Jess by getting them to talk about their so-called Earth culture. Sam knew his brother well enough that he would have been able to detect something was off if he hadn’t been so wrapped up in explaining what school had been like for him and why he decided on being a lawyer.

Dean wondered what kind of impression his family members made on Castiel. Movies often portrayed otherworlders as tall, regal figures and he wondered if that’s what Cas was used to. His ears picked up when conversation then moved on to what the communal diners were like, what foods were available, and no Castiel had his own arrangements and they wouldn’t need to worry about him. Sensing that the conversation needed to be moved to a better direction and away from anything that would out Cas as an android, Dean made a suggestion.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean said. “Maybe you’d like to watch movie or something. I’m sure Sam could recommend a documentary.”

“Oh, that’s a good idea.” Jess agreed. “I feel bad eating in front of you. Are you sure you don’t want anything?”

“I am properly nourished.” Castiel assured her. “There is no need for you to extend your hospitality any further than you have. A documentary would be enjoyable, thank you.”

“Sure thing, Cas.” Sam stood up from where he had been eating on the couch. One of the larger picture frames revealed itself to actually be a touch screen. After connecting to the building’s movie library Sam pulled up several options for a dinner time documentary.

“That one, please.” Castiel said and Sam’s hand paused over a title, _Man and the Machine._

Dean found the information rather interesting in spite of himself. The documentary was clearly created on a budget, but it talked a little bit about the relationship between man and robots. In the beginning, there wasn’t a difference. Machines couldn’t think for themselves and humans were always wary of playing with the unknown.

The interviewees in the documentary couldn’t trace the origin of the actual fear itself to anything other than biological instinct, but they could give it a face. The book _Frankenstein_ , which could be considered the first example of science fiction novel, acts as a cautionary tale. Dean hadn’t read the novel himself and was only familiar with comedic adaptations and allusions. What stood out to him was that Frankenstein was the name of the scientist, no his creation. Frankenstein’s creation was referred to as “monster”, “being”, or “it” by the novel and the creature referred to itself as “the Adam of your labors.”

Early robots were simple things used to increase production or to be used in place of humans in dangerous situations. The examples they used were unmanned drones and remote controlled robots used to defuse bombs. There was nothing to fear from those kinds of machines because they needed humans to function.

The film went on to show bionic limbs to replace biological ones. Naturally, that was before scientists figured out how to grow extra body parts in a lab. Again these were considered safe, but people couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if robots could think. The idea of artificial intelligence dated back as far as the ancient Greeks and even in myth. In fact, that’s what the majority of people thought it was, a myth. Machines were created to be more complex, but that didn’t make them smarter. What scientists were trying to achieve was a machine that could think, learn, and act like a human.

At the fore front of Dean’s mind as he finished off the last of his meal was, _Why?_

The detective considered himself to be a “down to Earth” kind of guy. He could dream big when he wanted to. He often pictured himself living in absolute comfort the mayor’s suite downtown with a blonde and a brunette on each arm and a personal bathtub with bubbles and everything, but tying to create life? That’s what the Outer Worlds were doing, right? They might not be creating human life, but they were doing their damnedest to try and replicate it.

Dean got up and rolled his shoulders.

 _Maybe that’s where the problem is,_ he thought. _There’s nine billion people on Earth. We have all the man power we could ever need._

He figured the Outer Worlds were trying to make up for a population difference that Earth didn’t even have. Dean was reminded once again of his father saying, “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”

There was one thing he could fix though. He wasn’t a big name politician with the power shove world peace down people’s throats, but he was trained to catch killers and that’s what he was going to do.

“Come on, Cas. We got a case.”

 


	5. Detective Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel develops a theory on how the killer got past Sterling Town's defenses.

“The one thing I don’t get,” Dean said as he reviewed the case notes, “Is how a terrestrian just walks into to Sterling Town, shoots a guy, and walks out.”

“Yes,” Castiel agreed. “I think we can safely say that our killer did not gain legal access from the entrance.”

“So where does that leave us?”

“We would in a tight spot if that were the only way in to Sterling Town.” Castiel said.

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose and inhaled deeply to give himself a moment.

“Alright,” he relented. “Lay it on me, Holmes.”

“I’m not sure I-“

“I mean _explain_ it to me, Einstein.” Dean snapped impatiently. “What’s this super secret passage to get into Sterling Town?”

Castiel gave him a blank look. “It’s hardly a secret Dean. Do you have a map?”

The detective nodded and fished out a tablet from one of the storage boxes. He had left his personal computer at the office, but he could always pick it up later. He preferred not to do work at home because the internet connection wasn’t as secure. Castiel might have been worried about listening devices, but Dean was more worried about bored teenaged hackers that liked to mess with their neighbor’s wifi. Pulling up a city map was innocent enough and wouldn’t raise any red flags.

“Alright,” Dean huffed. “Here’s the barrier and here’s the entrance. So where’s this not-so-secret way into town?”

“It is secret in a sense because it completely goes against your normal way of thinking.” Castiel said. “Through the barrier is the only direct route, but surrounding both the city and Sterling Town is open ground. The wilderness, as you call it.”

“So to do that our guy _walked_ across open country?” Dean looked at the android incredulously. “ _Alone_?”

“That would be the way to avoid detection, yes. The murder occurred early in the work day so it is believed the killer made the journey in predawn hours.” Castiel explained.

“That’s impossible!” Dean told him. “Asking a man to leave the city alone on foot is like asking one of your colonists to take the morning train at rush hour!”

“We agree,” Castiel said. “It is because of the unlikelihood only the entrance of Sterling Town is guarded. Even during the barrier riots this was so. Nobody left the city.”

“Damn, why _didn’t_ we think of that?” Dean grumbled. “It makes us look like idiots.”

“You were involved the riots?” Castiel asked. “As an officer or-“

“One case at a time Cas,” Dean interrupted. He bit his lip. “I don’t know, it still doesn’t add up. You think a group put a hit on Dr. Novak and the guy just walked in from the back?”

“Your commissioner has been very helpful with our investigation.” Castiel said. “He was almost at the crime scene itself when it happened.”

“Yeah, he told me.” Dean nodded out of sympathy. “It’s probably eating him up not knowing if he had been five minutes earlier, if it would have let him catch the guy or if he could have stopped him from killing Dr. Novak.”

The android didn’t display any noticeable expression of emotion towards his creator's demise beyond professional interest. Dean wondered if the android actually felt emotions or simply imitated them for the ease of human interaction. 

“It is another example of the timeliness of the crime.” Castiel said. “The appointment was concerning the integration of A’s that I was prototype for. Having the commissioner present makes the situation all that more embarrassing for both sides.”

“So, what. Are we supposed to check the city exits or something?” Dean leaned back in his chair.

Castiel did the head tilt thing again. “Do you know how many exits there are?”

“No,” Dean replied cautiously. “How many do you think there are?”

“Over five hundred.”

“Shit!”

“And they are mostly unguarded.” Castiel said. “It is unlikely anyone saw anything unusual and to search each exit would be a daunting task.”

Dean sighed. “And there’s no trace on the weapon.”

“We have no leads regarding the weapon.” Castiel confirmed. “The farm droids are useless as witnesses and barely above the intelligence of the farming equipment they use.”

Dean suppressed a groan.

“While the colonists continue the search it will be our duty to track down extremist groups with a possible connection to the crime.” Castiel said.

Dean yawned and stretched. “Well, I bet you wished you had a partner that didn’t need to shut down for a few hours everyday.”

“I do not,” Castiel refuted. “The Commissioner spoke very highly of your integrity.”

“Bobby might be a touch bias.” Dean shrugged off the praise.

“We didn’t rely entirely on his word.” Castiel assured him. “We checked your records.”

The android gave a small smile of amusement.

“What?” Dean asked.

“You have been very open on your opinion of androids.”

“Does that bother you?”

“No,” Castiel said. “You are, of course, entitled to your opinion. Although you dislike androids you will work with one out of duty. Your sense of loyalty is exactly what we’re looking for.”

“So, no hard feelings about me being anti-you?”

“As long as it does not interfere with my work,” Castiel told him. “The resolution of the case is my top priority.”

Dean covered another yawn. “So if I pass some sort of test, what about you?”

“What do you mean?”

The human detective waved a hand at his partner, “You’re not a detective. You’re like a cultural anthropologist.”

“I’m an information gathering machine,” Castiel said. “Is that not a good start for an investigator?”

“That’s a start,” Dean answered tersely. “But that’s not everything. Not by a long shot.”

“Naturally there will be some final adjustments to my programming.”

“I’d love to hear all about it.” Dean muttered.

“It should be simple enough.” Castiel said. “My last update already includes a strong desire for justice.”

Dean gawked. “Justice? What the hell does a-“

Castiel held up his hand. “Someone is at the door.”

Someone was. Dean opened the door to find Sam waiting for him. Sam turned to look at Castiel.

“Is something wrong?” Dean asked although he didn’t need to. He could already tell by his brother’s expression. The silence of the room was uncomfortable and thick with unsaid accusations.

“You’re name is  _A. Castiel_ , isn’t it?” Sam asked. “You’re an android.”

As calm as ever Castiel nodded and answered, “I am.”

Sam nodded and turned around. Dean followed him into the common room. Jess sensed the storm building between the two brothers. She gave Dean a pointed look as he grabbed his brother by the arm. Dean hauled his brother into his bedroom and closed the door.

“Don’t make it worse than it is, Sam.” Dean warned.

“You could have told me!” Sam objected in a raised tone.

“I would have eventually,” Dean assured him.

“Eventually?” Sam scoffed.

Dean crossed his arms defensivly. “You don’t have to get mad.”

“Mad?” Sam raised an eyebrow. “Oh, I’m not mad. I’m _worried_ , Dean. I’m worried about you. What else aren’t you telling me? That’s what I’m worried about. So, he’s an android and a cop? What does that make you? Is he your replacement? Is that what’s going on?”

“Look, nobody is replacing anybody!” Yet, Dean added silently. “He’s just a weird nerdy guy. You got along great at dinner.”

“He’s a machine, Dean.” Sam said, “You can’t tell me that’s not freak worthy. Why you?”

“Bobby asked me.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Of course.”

“Hey,” Dean slipped out a growl of warning. “Bobby’s done a lot for us.”

“You’ve done a lot for us, Dean.” Sam countered. “How about thinking about yourself for once?”

“Sam,” his brother tried in a gentler tone. “What’s really got you spooked? It’s not because Cas is an A, is it?”

Sam also dropped to a hush. “If people knew he was here and what he was… What if a riot breaks out? You broke up one today in a goddamn shoe store! People aren’t happy, Dean. You might as well have a freaking bomb in the apartment!”

Dean didn’t have an answer ready for that.

“He’s my partner.” Dean said firmly. “It doesn’t matter if you like it. It doesn’t matter if I like it. That’s just how it is.”

“For how long?” Sam demanded to know.

“One case,” Dean promised. “It’s just for one case. That’s all I’m going to tell you.”

After calling for a temporary truce, Dean and Sam returned to the common room. The door to the spare bedroom was open and android free. 

"Where's Cas?" Dean asked Jess who was sitting on a chair waiting for them to finish their brotherly spat. 

"He left." She frowned at the two of them. "What's going on with you two."

"Nothing we're fine," Sam told her before Dean could inquire on the android's whereabouts further. He was sure Cas would have told him if it was relevant to the case, so more than likely it was to give the humans the space to sort out their quarrel and get some rest.

"Uh huh." Jess murmured not quite believing it for a second. "I think you're both tired and need to go to bed."

"Yeah, it's been a long day." Dean agreed. "A _very_ long day."

Had it really only been just that morning that Bobby had called him into his office? It seemed like the murder had happened weeks ago instead of a few days. With the shock of meeting Castiel, the riot, and now the fight with Sam, Dean knew he was too hyped up to do more than toss and turn in his bed.  All things considered his first day partnered up with a goddamn machine could have been a lot worse.

In the privacy of his own room Dean changed into his sleepwear and pulled a bottle of pills hidden in the back of his underwear drawer. Sam probably knew about them, but Dean didn't want him bringing it up so he kept them out of sight. He had already used up his whiskey quota for the month. Without the aid of water Dean dropped two pills into his palm before swallowing. He counted backwards from a hundred like the doctor advised and repeated a quiet mantra.

"Nothing, no riot. No android, no declassification, no murder investigation, everything is solved. Nothing, no riot, no android, no murder. Everything is solved...."


	6. Identity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean thinks he's figured out who the killer is, but will his theory hold up to the evidence?

Police Commissioner Bobby Singer pulled out a stash of whiskey and two glasses. He poured some into a glass for himself and some into the glass of the man he thought of as a son. He didn’t fill the whole glass, but poured just enough to take the edge off of the moment. Dean took the small ration with a grateful nod before throwing his head back. He put the empty glass back on Bobby’s desk. Once Bobby finished off his share, the glasses and bottle were put away and out of sight.

“Where is he anyway?” Bobby asked and leaned back in his chair.

“Castiel wanted to look around the department, so I had Officer Green show him,” Dean replied with a shrug.

“I hope you didn’t let slip that he was an android.” Bobby crossed his arms and gave Dean a pointed look.

“Come on, Bobby.” Dean asked, “How stupid do you think I am?” When the commissioner didn’t respond Dean continued by adding, “Besides, you could have at least warned me about how human he looked.”

Bobby looked at him surprised. “I didn’t? Well gee, sorry princess,” the commissioner replied. “I must have gotten distracted by the political landmine we’re sitting on while trying to keep it from blowing up in our faces.”

Dean flinched in response to the scolding. Bobby was using a surly tone he reserved for his greenest, whiniest officers and Dean when the detective put his foot in his mouth.

“I wouldn’t have asked for him to stay at your place if he looked like  _A. Samandriel_.” Bobby pointed out. “Look, you’re probably right and I should have given you a heads up, but androids like Castiel are still in the experimental phase.”

“Yeah, he told me.” Dean paused a minute before telling him, “Castiel arranged it so we can take a look around Sterling Town.”

“What?! Why?!” Bobby demanded.

“So I can pick up some postcards. Why do you  _think_?” Dean shot back. “It’s the next logical step in the investigation. I need to look at the scene of the crime, don’t I?”

“We’ve been over the place with a fine tooth comb.” Bobby shook his head. “Sterling Town can be unnerving to us earthlings. You’re a good detective, Dean, but you’d make a shitty politician and we both know it.” Bobby leaned forward on his desk and rubbed his forehead, “God, I hate them.”

“Which ‘them’, Bobby?”

“The colonists.” Bobby groaned. “You don’t know what they’re like, Dean.” 

Dean shrugged, “Then why don’t you come along?”

His boss glared at him and snapped, “I have enough on my plate without babysitting you.”

“How about a video conference then?” Dean suggested. “It wouldn’t take that long. I need all the help I can get.”

“I guess I could do that,” Bobby said without enthusiasm.

Dean nodded and stood up. The detective was secretly pleased with himself on how quickly Bobby had agreed to the video conference. It was exactly what he needed. He needed somebody outside as a witness that couldn’t be easily silenced. It was a way Dean could guarantee his own safety. Dean left the office to find his partner shutting Bobby’s door behind him. 

Dean was shuffling his feet impatiently as he waited on the elevator when cheerful sounding ( _cheerful? really?_ ), whirling noise next to his ear made the detective jump.

 

“What the hell do you want?” Dean growled in  _A. Sami’s_  placid face. The terrestrial android’s expression remained unnervingly fixed in what his designers considered a sociable expression.

 

“Officer Green wanted me to tell you that Castiel is ready to depart.”  _A. Sami_  reported.

“Got it, now scram.” Dean ordered.

Dean watched the mechanical being leave with a deep feeling of disgust. Like most office-worker models,  _A. Sami_  had been built with a friendship program already hardwired into his little positronic brain. Dean scoffed at the idea. What did androids know about friendship, or  _justice_  for that matter? It was impossible.

Androids, like their robotic predecessors, possessed artificial intelligence. Complex program codes made them infinitely more advanced than Dean’s laptop, desktop, and mobile phone combined.

Dean’s office devices were created to obey the human hand. Robots were created to be extra hands. Following that logic androids were the next step, machines acting as extensions of human will. Dean firmly believed it went against nature and good old common sense for androids to have a will of their own.

Dean didn’t feel physically threatened by any of the androids. At the core of their programming were the “laws of robotics”. The first and foremost law was that a robot, and by extension an android, would not and could not harm a human or through inaction allow a human to come to harm. The second law was that a robot and/or android must obey a human’s command as long as it didn’t conflict with the first law. The third law was a robot and/or android must protect its own existence as long as it didn’t interfere with the first two laws. It was the detective’s understanding that the law-coding was a pain-in-the-ass to reconstruct and any attempt to alter or delete the laws would cause the robot or android to automatically cease function.

Earlier robots would also shut down unexpectedly if there was a contradiction between laws. For example, if a robot needed to act to protect the life of a human (first law), but doing so would, with absolute certainly, lead to the destruction of the robot (thus violate the third law), the robot’s system would overload and shut down. Supposedly this problem had been corrected with the development of the A’s.

Dean thought back to the near riot Castiel had broken up. The detective was absolutely certain that the store-clerks would have let themselves be torn apart piece by piece without a fight. At most the androids would have repeated a prescripted plea for the customers to go about their business or ask if there was any other way for the clerks to assist them. Dean readily admitted he didn’t like _A. Sami_ or the A’s, but none of them deserved what the rioters had been about to do and what rioters had done in the past.

Then again Dean would probably feel the same way about a classic car. Machines served a purpose in human society and they should be respected if they did their job well. However, Dean didn’t see any need for all the bells and whistles of friendship programs or anything else the colonists felt the need to dress up their androids with. Terrestrian distrust of robots was irrational at best, but Dean couldn’t help it himself.  _A. Sami_  looked absolutely freakish with his placid, friendly-looking expression fixed in place. Although A. _Castiel’s_ expression wasn’t fixed, it still appeared forced or faked. Dean didn’t think he’d ever feel completely comfortable around androids.

In honor of expediency, after he had collected Castiel, Dean had been permitted to take a squad card to Sterling Town. Several ancient motorways remained closed to pedestrians and open to city vehicles despite constantly lobbying from the public to turn the underground spaces into playgrounds and shops. Dean liked driving, but the emptiness of the underground passages gave him the creeps. Every city had a ghost story or two about a person getting lost in the underground maze of roads. According to the urban legend, out of the corner of your eye you could see the shadow of the poor sap still looking for the exit. City sweepers had yet to uncover a body, but Dean kept his eyes forward regardless.

Castiel did nothing to ease the silence. He stared ahead with the same unimpressed expression he reserved for all things terrestrial. When the squad car resurfaced Dean put the lights and sirens on to let pedestrians know to clear the streets. People shot him indignant looks as Dean and his passenger zoomed by. Dean took a breath and let the familiar noise of the city wash over him before the sounds died down again as they drew closer to Sterling Town.

The guards at the town’s entrance were expecting them. They knew  _A. Castiel_  by sight and let the android pass with nothing more than a brisk nod. Dean, however, received a more frigid reception. After a guard saluted he asked to see Dean’s identification which was inspected thoroughly. Dean noticed that each of the guards wore flesh colored gloves and filters in their nostrils. The detective bristled slightly.

The guard handed Dean’s credentials back and saluted. “There is a shower room for you to use,” he said. “I’ll show you.”

The detective was about to protest it as unnecessary, but Castiel tugged on his sleeve and in a firm hush offered, “It is customary.” Dean swallowed his protests down and composed himself.

“I know you have no intention of making us uncomfortable,” Castiel continued. “I suggest that you also attend to any other matters of personal hygiene at this time. There will not be any facilities for that use once we enter the town.”

“What?” Dean yanked himself out of the android’s grip. “You mean there are no bathrooms?”

Dean’s mind immediately began racing though a list of scenarios (most of which inspired by bad science fiction movies) of how that could be while his stomach did gymnastics.

Castiel just looked back at him calmly. “Of course there are restrooms. City dwellers are barred from their use. I regret the inconvenience of the situation, but they will not be flexible about this custom. Please understand Dean.”

Dean shoved open the door to the shower room with more force than needed. Castiel followed behind him.

“Checking up on me?” Dean asked frigidly. “Making sure I get all the city dust out from under my nails?” It was the first time he had spoken in a shower room since he was a child. The last time he did it his father had nearly spanked him for the faux pas. Dean remembered the embarrassment he had felt at the time.

“I’m sure you’re able to see to your own hygiene,” Cas replied. “I am also required to decontaminate.”

Dean rolled his eyes. In his anger it momentarily slipped Dean's mind that he was preparing to enter colonist territory. He might as well be walking around with a blaster pointed at his chest because of his big mouth. Bobby had plenty of reason to worry. It was odd to suddenly have their roles reversed with Castiel acting as a reluctant guide.

The shower room was small and immaculately clean. If Dean looked hard enough he could see his reflection in the white walls. Under the scent of strong disinfectants was another element to the air. Dean sniffed curiously and realized it was ozone. Natural light and air flooded the hallway and shower area.

A soft PING! brought Dean back to the present. A pleasant recording whose voice could have been either male or female (Dean wasn’t sure) instructed them to remove their clothing and put it in the receptacle on the wall. The directions also flashed on the wall in correlation with the location of the first step. Dean obeyed briskly, but hesitated putting his blaster in with his clothes.  _A. Castiel_  was faster and skipped the next step which was to “tend to personal needs”.

Dean grumbled and put his blaster belt over his naked waist and moved forward. He felt like he was in an assembly line. Once his “personal needs” were taken care off he followed a sequence of arrows into an open shower stall. Dean knew his blaster was waterproof so he didn’t worry about that. If the occasion called for it the detective could have weapon out and ready to discharge in seconds.

“The visitor will place his feet on the indicated floor panels,” the voice instructed. “Please hold your arms out to the side.”

Dean did as instructed and a blast of foam mixed with warm water rained down on him from the ceiling, walls and floor. A full minute passed before a lower pressure spray of cold water doused his red, abused skin. Lastly he was bombarded by warm air currents giving him a chance to catch his breath. The warm air left him feeling dry and oddly refreshed. He also noticed his hair was softer to the touch after the treatment.

Both Dean and Castiel emerged from the shower stalls at the same moment. Dean automatically looked away, but then remembered that Sterling customs weren’t city customs. He drew his unwilling eyes back to the android and followed his form up and down. Dean smirked. The android’s faultless human appearance wasn’t limited to his face and hands. Castiel’s craftsmen had taken great pains to ensure the accuracy of the android’s human likeness to every inch of his body.

Dean shuffled back to the beginning where his clothes were folded neatly and waiting for him. Once he was dressed the voice commanded him to put his hand in a crevasse in the wall. Dean felt an odd tingle on his middle finger and he jerked back. A dribble of blood oozed. He watched his blood clot with a morbid fascination and realized they were analyzing his blood. Dean’s heart sped up. His yearly physical examination for the department wasn’t even this thorough. It made him sick that these cold, machine makers, these  _outsiders_ , had a piece of him to poke and prod and examine under a microscope.

Once he received the go-ahead, Dean moved towards the exit. Before he could set beyond the threshold, however, several alarms went off and a door slammed in his face.

“What the hell?!”

“The sniffers have detected a power source.” Castiel spoke right in his ear. “Dean, do you still have your blaster?”

The detective’s face turned crimson.

“Of course I have my blaster,” Dean snapped without looking at the android. “I’m a police officer! I’m supposed to have my service weapon in reach both on and off duty!”

“Visitors are forbidden to carry weapons,” Castiel explained. “You’ll be perfectly safe. Even your commissioner leaves his weapon behind. It is custom, Dean.”

Dean huffed irritably. In any other situation he would have turned back right then and there. If this was the more streamlined decontamination he hated to think about the original system it had replaced. Supposedly this was the “unobtrusive” method. He passed his service weapon to Castiel who in turn placed it in an open locker.

“Place your thumb in the impression,” the android instructed. “This way only you will be able to retrieve it.”

Dean glared at the locker before complying with the android’s instuctions. He felt more exposed now than he did in the shower. In the corridor the light and air felt strange. Air brushed up against his face like a squad car had passed by. Dean looked around confused.

“The air is unconditioned,” Castiel explained when he noticed his partner’s reaction.

Dean paled. He wondered how the colonists could be so meticulous about disinfecting anyone who entered their towns, but thought nothing about breathing open air. It seemed contradictory to the detective. He pinched his nose in an attempt to filter the dirty air.

“The air is not harmful to your health,” Castiel told him as they moved along.

“Okay,” the detective mumbled unconvinced.

The air currents were gentle as they brushed against his face, but they were also erratic which annoyed Dean. It was even worse when they stepped out of the corridor and Dean was bombarded by bright light and a vast expanse of blue. Dean had been in natural light before in a solarium, but this was overwhelming. The openness of everything made his breath catch in his throat and heart beat against his ribs in protest. Dean tried to ignore his uncomfortable feelings and zeroed in on an approaching colonist riding in an electric wheelchair. Castiel moved forward and greeted the man with a handshake. The colonist did not offer the same greeting to Dean.

“I’m Dr. Donnie Finnerman.” The colonist introduced himself. “If you’ll come with me, please.”

Dome buildings offered Dean some respite from the overpowering openness of the outside. He gawked at the size of the rooms and the careless distribution of space, but Dean was grateful to once again feel familiar air conditioning.

Dean also took the time to study their host. Dr. Finnerman seemed friendly enough. Unlike Castiel his skin was a dark chocolate color and his hair was trimmed to disguise signs of thinning. The detective ran a hand over his own scalp and was grateful that hair loss wasn’t a major concern in his family. The Doctor’s obvious physical limitations and his slightly aged appearance gave Dean more comfort than Castiel’s or the guards’ had. It made the colonist appear more human in Dean’s eyes.

Along the hallway there were portraits of colonists of relative importance. Previously Dean had only spoken with colonists over the phone or through video calls. Walking among them was an entirely different experience. Portrayals of colonists in media made them appear tall, grave, and coldly beautiful, more like Castiel. As they moved along the android named the portraits and clinically narrated their role in the Sterling Town project.

Dean stopped short and pointed. “That’s you, isn’t it?”

“No, Dean.” Castiel told him. “That is my designer, Dr. James Novak.”

The detective paused and blinked. “Dr. Novak created you in his image?”

“There is some irony there,” Castiel admitted. “Dr. Novak was a very religious man, but he mostly did it for practical reasons. By having a model to draw from the technicians were able to ensure a more accurate human likeness.”

Before the android could elaborate Dr. Finnerman lead them into a conference room. He waved a hand to a bowl filled with multicolored spheres.

“Will you take food, detective?” Dr. Finnerman asked politely. Dean glanced down at the mystery spheres.

“These are fruit, Dean.” Castiel told him when the detective looked puzzled.

“Fruit?” Dean asked. He had never seen fruit in its raw form. In the city fruit came as sauce or preserves. He picked up a red sphere and sniffed it hesitantly.

“That is an apple.” Cas said. “I’m told it is quite delightful.”

“Naturally  _A. Castiel_  doesn’t know this from personal experience.” Dr. Finnerman chuckled.

Dean took an experimental bite of the apple and found its flesh to be cool and refreshing in his mouth. The texture was odd, but the inner juices were sweet on his taste buds. He chewed slowly and swallowed before taking another bite.

“Allow me to clarify my role in the investigation of Dr. Novak’s murder.” Dr. Finnerman advised. “My role is very similar to Commissioner Singer’s. Likewise I also hope this matter to be closed as quickly and as quietly as possible.”

Dean nodded his understanding and bit into the center of the apple. He discovered the fruit’s hard black seeds. He spat out the seeds on reflex nearly hitting the scientist.

“Leave them, please.” Dr. Finnerman held up his hand to stall Dean before he could bend down. “It’s nothing.”

Dean stood up red-faced and set the half eaten apple on the table. He had an unfriendly suspicion that once he left, both the seeds and the remaining fruit would be put in an incinerator and the room would be completely hosed down with disinfectant.

“We’re ready to begin the video conference whenever you are,” Dr. Finnerman told him.

“I’m ready.” Dean said as he sat down. One of the walls appeared to dissolve and was replaced by the image of Commissioner Singer. Now that he had a witness Dean felt at ease. “Sir,” he addressed Bobby. “I think I’ve made a breakthrough in the case.”

“What do you mean?” Bobby asked and adjusted his ball cap.

Dean leaned back in his chair. “There are a few items that caught my attention that didn’t add up.”

“Dean,” Bobby warned sensing something foreboding was about to come out of his godson’s mouth.

Dr. Finnerman looked mildly amused and pleased. “I know you’re skilled detective by your files. Have you figured out the identity of the murderer?”

“I don’t think there ever was a murder,” Dean said smoothly. “I think Dr. Novak is still alive.”

“WHAT?!” Bobby screeched. “How? Where is he then?”

“Hidden in plain sight,” Dean pointed at Castiel. “Right there.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> During my initial reading of the original source, I found it to be very awkward actually. I wasn't sure if Asimov meant for Elijah's mistake to be funny or if it was a serious moment. For the audience it's a case of spoiler by format because anybody with a lick of sense would realize you're not even half way through the book. Case is so not solved and I personally thought it made our protagonist look like an idiot. 
> 
> obviously, I kept the mix up in the plot. Reasons-  
> 1) The part where the detective is checking his robot partner out in the shower and noticing that he's well equipped? That was surprisingly in the original.  
> 2) It's sort of a redherring. The audience isn't fooled, but Elijah didn't think a mere robot could look that hot- I mean "human". Asimov did describe R. Daneel as quite a looker.


	7. The Suspect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They finally have a suspect!

Bobby sputtered curses and profanities over the video call. When he finally composed himself, he said “I _saw_ Dr. Novak’s corpse, you idjit. You’re barking up the wrong tree, boy!”

“No, you saw the cooked remains of what they _told_ you was Dr. Novak’s corpse.” Dean corrected tersely.

The commissioner groaned. “Dean, I know how to do my damn job. I’m telling you it was him.”

“Did you look close enough to make sure it was organic tissue?” Dean pressed. He wasn't sure of technical terms, but he tried. “You’re absolutely certain it wasn’t... carbonization over fused metal? A fake body they painstakingly threw together as carefully as they claimed to have made the alleged android?”  

Bobby leaned back in his chair. “This is ridiculous.”

Dean turned back to Dr. Finnerman. “Would you object to the body being exhumed?”

“Unfortunately, like terrestrians, we cremate our dead.” The scientist looked at him apologetically.

“Convenient,” Dean muttered.

“I’m curious how you arrived at your theory, detective.”Dr. Finnerman said not unkindly. “Please, enlighten us.”

Dean ground his teeth.

“Castiel is too good of a human to be a robot.” Dean started.

“Thank you, Dean.” Castiel said. “I’m pleased to hear that you say so.”

“You, be quiet.” Dean ordered with a firm glance. “As I was saying, at first I thought he was a colonist. I couldn’t really wrap my head around the idea of him being an android.”

“As I explained to you,” Castiel interrupted. “My purposeful resemblance to humanity is so that I can discreetly move among them without experiencing prejudice. It is to earn people’s trust.”

“And you have to be so painstakingly perfect even down to parts of the body that are covered by clothes most of the time?” Dean challenged. “Even to the point that you have organs that for a machine have no conceivable function?”

“Wait. How do you know about that?” Bobby cut in.

Dean’s face turned red. “I… couldn’t help noticing during the decontamination cycle.”

Bobby gave him a surprised look. Dr. Finnerman cleared his throat to get their attention.

“As you say, Detective,” the scientist injected smoothly, “'Go big, or go home'.” He smiled at his own humor. “We weren’t willing to risk the reputation of our project with half measures. The resemblance had to be perfect in every way.”

“I understand your logic there,” Dean told the scientist. “I ran into a riot just bringing the guy home! Which brings me to my next point that he pulled a blaster on the potential rioters.”

“Wait a minute,” Bobby shouted again, “That was you?! And he did what?!”

“Sorry, Bobby.” Dean muttered sheepishly. He turned back to the scientist. “The first law of robotics clearly states that a robot can’t harm a human.”

“But he didn’t harm them,” The scientist pointed out.

“True, but I’ve never seen an android violate the spirit of the law to the point of pulling a blaster.”

The scientist scratched his chin and studied Dean carefully. He asked, “And are you an expert on robotics, detective?”

“No,” Dean admitted. “I’m decent with machines in a general sense and I’ve taken a few courses on positronic analysis.”

“That’s all well and good,” the scientist said. “But I _am_ an expert and I can tell you that the essence for the mechanical mind only understands a literal interpretation of the universe. Androids do not recognize the 'spirit' of the laws, only the letter.”

Dean nodded hesitantly and Dr. Finnerman continued.

“It is my understanding that Castiel’s threat was necessary to prevent a riot, therefore preventing the harm of humans.” The scientist looked at Castiel then back at Dean. “In that way he was obeying the law, not defying it.”

The detective began to fidget uncomfortably. Admittedly his theory was starting to sound not as good as it did in his head. Colonists were so robotic anyway it wouldn’t have been too difficult for one of them to impersonate an android. He was absolutely convinced of that.

“Last night the alleged android said that he had been upgraded to a detective status because he was uploaded with a justice-program.” Dean said.

“I can confirm that,” Dr. Finnerman said. “The program was loaded into Castiel’s positronic brain three days ago.”

“Justice, Dr. Finnerman, is an abstract concept.” Dean argued. “You can’t just upload it.”

“Your definition of justice is an abstraction.” Dr. Finnerman told him. “You believe justice is giving each man his fair due. I will grant that abstraction cannot be built into the positronic brain.”

“You admit this as an expert in robotics?”

“Yes,” the scientist said. “But you have not asked Castiel what his definition of justice is.”

Taking the hint, Dean turned to Castiel. “Well?”

“Yes, Dean?”

“What is your definition of justice?” Dean asked irritably.

“Justice is when all laws are enforced.” Castiel replied.

Dr. Finnerman nodded. “That is a good and simple definition for a positronic brain. Now Castiel’s programming will drive him to see that all laws are enforced. However, unlike a human who naturally processes the ability to adhere to an abstract code of morals, Castiel will be unable to recognize that some laws can be bad and their enforcement is therefore unjust. What do you think, Castiel?”

Castiel frowned and Dean could practically see the error messages popping up.  “An 'unjust law' is a contradictory term.”

“So you see.” Dr. Finnerman turned back to Dean. “You must not confuse your sense of justice with that of an android.”

“One last thing,” Dean said. He looked at Castiel and asked, “Where did you go last night?”

“I didn’t want to intrude on family matters,” Castiel admitted. “I was concerned that the living unit wasn’t properly insulated. Sam discovered my identity with ease. I had to make sure that no one else had been privy to our investigation.” Castiel explained that he had searched the section for listening devices and transmitters.

“And did you find anything?” Dean asked.

“No, there was nothing.” Castiel confirmed.

“There, does that sound reasonable, Detective?” Dr. Finnerman inquired.

“It’s still a flimsy alibi,” Dean said. “What I don’t like are all these conspiracy theories. You guys think that there’re groups on Earth trying to sabotage your project. The outer worlds can’t even agree on whether or not Earth should be modernized. I think this is one big publicity stunt so you guys can use the murder as an excuse for occupancy.”

Dr. Finnerman frowned at that. “We could have used the barrier riots as an excused,” he said. “That incident is far more severe than the single tragedy of Dr. Novak’s murder. If we wanted to occupy Earth we could do so using much simpler means instead of an elaborate hoax.”

“Not unless the outer worlds come to some agreement,” Dean countered. “Dr. Novak could then be used as a martyr for them to rally behind.”

The scientist sighed. “Really detective, while I can appreciate your ability to think outside the norm, it’s really a simple matter to prove _A. Castiel’s_ identity if nothing else. Have your tried sticking a pin in Castiel to test your theory?”

“What?”

“It’s a simple experiment,” the scientist explained. “There are others that are not quite as simple. Although his skin and hair look convincing, viewing them under magnification will tell you otherwise. Have you noticed that his breathing is irregular and minutes may go by where he doesn’t breathe at all? If you shined a like in his eyes his irises wouldn't constrict like a human's would either.”

“I’m not just going to stick a pin in the guy to satisfy my curiosity! All those things you just mentioned would be offensive to any human.”

“Oh, well, I see your point.” The scientist acknowledged and gestured to Castiel. “In that case, Castiel, if you please.”

Castiel rolled up his sleeve to expose his sinewy arm below the elbow and revealing tiny hairs in the exact placement a human would have them.

“So?” Dean asked. Castiel pressed and manipulated the joints of his hand in a sequence that Dean didn’t follow and the man’s arm split in two revealing steel rods and blue circuitry.

“Well, shit.” Dean grumbled. Behind him he could hear his boss cracking up in a fit of laughter.

Dean tried not to think too hard about the repercussions his stunt might have cost him. Dean was ready to kiss his badge goodbye, sign his lease over to Sam and spend the rest of his life eating lemon flavored porridge.

“I guess this mean’s I’m off the case then.” Despite being redder than a neon sign the detective leaned over and examined Castiel’s limb with morbid curiosity.

The scientist chucked. “Of course not detective.”

Dean looked at him shock. “I’m not? Even after accusing you of conspiracy and making myself look like a complete idiot? Why? I know it’s not my charming good looks.”

Dr. Finnerman snorted. “Detective Winchester, I have met two kinds of Terrestrians, rioters and politicians. Your commissioner is useful to us, but he is more of the latter. He tells us what he thinks we want to hear and encourages his subordinates to do the same.” The scientist leaned over to one side of his chair to study Dean’s face carefully. “You, however, came in here bold and direct and made an honest attempt to prove your case. This little mix up has made me hopeful.”

“Hopeful?”

“Yes,” Dr. Finnerman nodded. “I believe that you are someone I can be frank with and will expect the same in return. Castiel has explained his purpose, but I don’t think you understand it completely. You may have noticed that in the presence of a city dweller colonists wear gloves and air filters. Our standoffishness isn’t intended to be a slight nor is it our intention to suggest that terrestrians belong to a lower caste of sorts. The real answer to all that is actually obvious if one looks for it. The medical examination you underwent along with the cleaning procedures are not simply a matter of ritual, they are a necessity.”

“Disease.” Dean guessed.

The scientist nodded. “After leaving Earth colonists found themselves on planets without bacteria, viruses, and carriers. Naturally our symbiotic bacteria remains with us, but parasitic diseases were essentially wiped out. As time went by our immigration customs became stricter to prevent outbreaks.” Dr. Finnerman looked at him sadly. “Detective I have no natural defense against earth diseases and something as minor as a cold could kill me. Those who inhabit Sterling Town understood the risks. This weakness was never made known to the public because we are afraid. We’re so few in number and are treated with such extreme levels of xenophobia.”

“Did you know about this, Bobby?” Dean asked the commissioner.

“I made a guess,” Bobby admitted.

“And you didn’t think to tell me?” Dean sighed.

“If he had then you wouldn’t have mistaken Castiel for a colonist.” Dr. Finnerman realized.

“It might have saved time for everybody, yeah.” Dean suddenly felt exhausted. The whole issue of androids and colonists was even more complex than it was yesterday.

“Dean,” Bobby interrupted. “As much as I’d love to stay and chat all day, I do have actually work to do.”

“Kay,” Dean replied. "I think we're good here. Surprisingly."

Bobby huffed, “Try to keep your head out of your ass and your foot out of your mouth. Oh, and don’t think I didn’t forget about the thing with the shoe store. We’re discussing that as soon as you get back.”

Dean groaned, but nodded and the commissioner’s face blinked out as the call ended. He turned back to Dr. Finnerman.

“Since we’re being so open and honest right now, I have to ask.” He said. “Why bother with Earth anyway?”

“Are you satisfied with life on Earth?”

“We get along.”

“But you’re not satisfied.” This time it wasn’t a question.

“Like I said, we get along.” Dean told him firmly.

“Barely, Detective Winchester,” Dr. Finnerman said. “You’re cities are running at full capacity. Every scrap of resource is channeled though a complex system. You’re too efficient for your own good. Let me ask you, what would happen if the power grid fails?”

“It won’t,” Dean replied. “It hasn’t.”

“But it could,” the scientist warned. “Your cities hang in a precarious balance and are completely unprepared for a disaster. Men make mistakes. Nature may appear dormant, but remains unpredictable. The loss of one of your cities is equal if not greater to the entire population of an outer world. You expect me to stand idly by and let that happen? I may not be a man of god, but I am a man of science. If there is a solution I will work to find it.”

Dean had to admit the guy was starting to make a point.

“And your solution?” the detective inquired.

“The problem with Earth, detective,” Dr. Finnerman said, “Is that its people are so earthbound, so closed minded, too dependent on their cities that it is inconceivable that a man would venture beyond. Even now you doubt that a terrestrian would walk through the wilderness to commit a murder.”

An uneasy hush fell upon the room. Dean felt annoyed. In two days his world had essentially been turned on its head. What was supposed to be a simple murder case had turned into anything but.

“How old do you think I appear to be,” Dr. Finnerman asked suddenly.

Dean shrugged.

“One hundred and sixty,” the scientist informed him.

“What?!” Dean was caught so off guard he nearly fell out of his chair. “How?”

“If it wasn’t for my accident, I could expect to easily live to see three hundred. Maybe more.” Dr. Finnerman explained. “Without illness this is our reality, but we are as concerned about population as your government is. We have extremely low birthrates. Although our life spans are extended the period when our bodies are at peak fertility isn’t. Blink and you wake up a hundred year old man. I, myself, didn't think about having children until it was too late.”

“Wow,” was all Dean could offer in response.

“Despite your high populations, your government does not impose restrictions to control population increase.” Dr. Finnerman observed.

“Yeah,” Dean agreed. “That was another social experiment that failed miserably even before people started colonizing other planets. Telling people they can’t have kids only makes them want them more.”

“We screen our children before birth.” Dr. Finnerman told the detective. “Those with defects are terminated in the womb.”

Dean looked at the man horrified. The apple he had eaten earlier sudden was seated ill in his stomach and the detective had to swallow several times before he was sure he wouldn’t be reacquainted with the fruit.  

“I agree,” Dr. Finnerman read his expression. “It is not the most ideal situation. It is just one more reason we want our project to be a success.”

“What is the ultimate goal of the project, Dr. Finnerman?” Dean asked skeptically.

“Our plan was to use the A’s to displace workers, tipping your economy into a controlled crisis.” The scientist looked directly into Dean’s eyes as he relayed this information. “It was our hope that this displacement would drive people to colonize.”

“But the outer worlds don’t allow for earth colonization.”

“There is no shortage of planets.” Dr. Finnerman pointed out. “They would have to travel a little further, but the option is there. This is the solution that we devised. Unfortunately you people have proven to be immensely stubborn, but as I told you the other scientists and I, including Dr. Novak, were willing to risk losing decades of our lives for this project.”

Dean frowned, but considered the scientists words very carefully.

“This isn’t a simple matter of making sure Dr. Novak’s death wasn’t in vain." The scientist said gravely, "The success of this project is paramount to the survival of our species. The fate of humanity is riding on this case.”

“Gee, thanks.” Dean growled and ran nervous hands through his hair. “But I don’t even know where to start. We don’t have any suspects.”

“That’s not true, Dean,” Castiel cut in. “We do have a suspect.”

“We do?”

“Yes,” the android nodded. “There was one terrestrian at the scene of the crime close to the time of the murder. Robert Singer.”


	8. Fine Dining

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean takes Castiel out to dinner and that's not nearly as romantic as it sounds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New Chapter after a short hiatus. 
> 
> I have a new job (yay!) but the training process is super long (eight-twelve weeks) and my boss is losing her patience. I don't plan on quitting because I love the job and let's face it; how many people actually like their boss? Nine trainees have dropped out thus far so is it really me or their hiring/training system?

“Naturally his innocence was established relatively quickly,” Castiel added while seemingly oblivious to the spectrum of emotions that flashed across Dean’s face all at once. Dean exhaled sharply.

“Jeeze, way to shave a year of or two off my life, Cas.” Dean sank back into his chair like he was about ready to collapse after a marathon. The shock of the accusation although brief had been draining. “There’s no way Bobby could have done it.”

“As the evidence suggests.” The android acknowledge and then explained, “Commissioner Singer entered Sterling Town through the entrance. At that time his weapon was removed and checked. We concluded that it hadn’t been used. Every blaster in Sterling Town was tested and none had been fired in the last two weeks.”

“You know that for a fact?” Dean asked.

“It’s easy enough to test. Our weapons were thoroughly examined and catalogued,” Castiel said. “After our search we concluded that the murder weapon wasn’t hidden within Sterling Town.”

“Meaning the guy ditched it in the woods or took it with him,” Dean muttered. “So because of that Bobby was cleared.”

“Yes,” Castiel acknowledged. “However, as a precaution he was given a cerebral analysis.”

“You did _what_?!”

“It’s completely unobtrusive,” Castiel stated. “By scanning brain activity we were able to determine the emotional makeup of the commissioner. It is a form of lie detection. All of our scientists were subjected to the same scans.”

At least the mystery of why Bobby hated colonists so much had been cleared up.

* * *

 

It was late afternoon before Dean arrived back at his desk. _A. Samandrial_ informed him that the commissioner was out at the moment, so Dean’s chew out session would have to wait. The detective passed the time thinking and it didn’t even register that he had technically skipped lunch. Forty-five minutes later _A. Sami_ came to get him.

“Have a seat, Dean.” Bobby ordered curtly. “That was quite the blunder back in Sterling Town.”

“Yeah, sorry about that.” Dean looked down at his hands sheepishly.

Bobby rolled his eyes. “The colonists didn’t seem ruffled by it. You’re one lucky son of a gun.” He huffed, “Between the store mishap and your little stunt- I’m starting to rethink human and android partnerships. You two were practically _made_ for each other. ”

“I wasn’t ‘made’, Bobby.”

“Your daddy would disagree if he weren’t resting peacefully in his grave. The rest of us aren’t so lucky.” Bobby pointed a knobby finger at him. “The next time one of you even thinks about doing something reckless, run it by me first.”

Dean was relieved the commissioner wasn’t too upset by the fiasco. They’d need all the luck they could get. Forty-eight hours in and the only progress on the case worth writing home about was Castiel was indeed an android, the colonists weren’t trying to take over the world, and they still had no viable leads on the actual murder.

“I want to set up with Castiel in a two man living unit,” Dean announced. “I’m not going home tonight.”

“And why’s that?” Bobby squinted at him with a suspicious look.

“Android, remember,” Dean drawled. “Sam figured it out easy enough and according to Dr. Finnerman there’s more visible evidence than I originally gave him credit for.”

“Our web crawlers haven’t picked up anything on the social media,” Bobby told him. “We’ve got our tech’s screening for rumors like that. Sam’s one thing, but you couldn’t tell Castiel wasn’t human.”

“If there was an android technician among the crowd in the store, they could have noticed,” Dean pointed out.

“That’s a fairly big ‘if’, boy.”

“It’s still a possibility,” Dean argued. “I don’t want Sam and Jess to be put in danger like that.”

“I see your point. Give me your badge-card.” Bobby took the slender key to the city and slid the pass through a port on his computer. After a few sharp clicks he said, “I have a Q-27 room in the 12th district. It’s not a very good neighborhood, but that’s the best I can give you. Our rookies are occupying the other department-issued apartments and I can’t place you two with them.”

“It’ll do,” Dean said as he took his key-card back.

“Where is the tin-man anyway,” Bobby asked.

“He’s in archives trying to collect information on possible anti-colonist agitators.”

“Christ, there could be millions!”

“I know, but it keeps him happy,” Dean replied as he stood up. He was almost out the door when he stopped and asked, “Bobby, did Dr. Novak ever tell you the point behind Sterling Town? Why they came?”

Bobby shrugged. “Improve overall health and raise the standards of living. The same talk the government feeds us. I just nodded and humored them.”

“Did he ever talk about emigration?”

“Emigration?” Bobby scoffed. “Never! Letting a terrestrian land on an outer world is like mining diamonds on Saturn.”

“I meant emigration to new worlds,” Dean clarified, but Bobby continued to stare at him incredulously.

“What do the colonists need to settle new worlds for,” Bobby asked. “I thought they were trying to reconnect to Earth.

“Nothing, never mind.” Dean waved him off.

Dean called his brother from the office to let him know Dean wasn’t going to be home for a while. He listened patiently through Sam’s worried anecdotes. Being a police officer always came with a certain set of employment hazards. Finally Dean cut Sam off abruptly and said he had other things he needed to do. Sam would be fine. He had Jess after all.

The detective’s next call was to Washington. It took him a while to navigate the phone maze of being passed back and forth between computer-voiced operators before he finally got the mobile number he wanted. It took an equally long time for Dean to convince the person take a flight out to Soux Falls the next day. By the time the day shift ended Dean had succeeded.  Shortly thereafter A. Castiel came to Dean’s desk with a tablet in his hands and bright red jump drive between his fingers.

“What’s all that?” Dean asked.

“I’ve compiled a list of men and women who belong to anti-colonist/android organizations,” Castiel told him. “There are over a million.”

“And you expect us to check them all out?!”

“Of course not,” Castiel replied. “That would be impractical.”

“Cas, every terrestrian is anti-colonist/android someway or another.” Dean asked, “How did you narrow down your list?”

“Your archives computer did it for me. I was able to do a search cases on a specific type of offense and the machine the did work for me. I searched for all disorderly conduct cases involving androids within the past 25 years. On a different computer I did another search for city news reports. It’s amazing what can be done in a mere three hours. The search program even eliminated the names of those already deceased from the list.”

“Hold on,” Dean said abruptly. “You’re actually impressed? Don’t you have computers on your world?”

“Oh, yes.” Castiel nodded. “It would be impractical to design positronic coding without them. However, you must remember that even the most populous Outer World scarcely has the population of one of your cities. Complex search programs and record keeping aren’t a necessity.”

Something occurred to Dean. “Have you actually been on Eden?” he asked.

“No, I was assembled here on Earth.” Castiel replied.

“Then how do you know what Outer World computers are like?”

“That’s obvious,” Castiel told him. “I not only physically resemble Dr. Novak. I have all of his knowledge at my disposal as well. You take for granted the factual knowledge I have on Outer Worlds, but I assure you it is as accurate as if I had been there myself.”

The detective’s stomach made it known that he had skipped lunch. Dean studied the android for a moment and asked, “Can you eat something?”

Cas made a squinty ‘error message’ face for half second before replying, “I’m not an organic being. I do not require food as nourishment.”

“I didn’t mean do you ‘need’ to eat. I was asking ‘could’ you eat for appearances sake.” Dean explained. “I’m hungry now and you can’t just sit in the communal dinning hall and not eat. That would draw attention.”

“Yes.” Castiel nodded. “I am mechanically able to chew and swallow modest amounts, but the material would have to be removed.”

“Right, you can puke it up or whatever when we get to the apartment,” Dean said as he grabbed the android by the arm. “If we want this case to be solved I need food, now.”

* * *

 

Communal dining looked the same in every city from D.C. to Toronto to Shanghai. In the past culinary matters were an art form. Before man kind had the technology to colonize other planets, half the world had been starving and the other half dying from over sweetened, over processed food. The communal dining system had saved Earth.

The food’s flavor wasn’t bad, at least not compared to the bare minimum that was served in the barracks. Everyone got just the right amount of calories and there was still a variety of dishes to choose from. Nothing was wasted and everyone got fed. In Dean’s mind it was perfect.

Dining areas were also a place to socialize with your neighbors and was a part of the day that everyone could look forward to. Dean would miss eating with Sam and Jess, but the detective could enjoy the peace of mind that came with knowing they would be safer away from Castiel and the murder case.

As expected the line to the diner was long, but it moved with as much stunning efficiency as the rest of thecity. The dinning area was filled with the familiar roar of chatter, the clatter of utensils, and the shuffling of people. A well organized kitchen could serve 12,000 people in an hour. Unfortunately a ten minute wait time per person was unavoidable.

As the detective and companion shuffled along one of the food lines Dean turned to the android and asked, “Castiel, can you smile?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I was just wondering if you could smile,” Dean whispered so the rest of the line wouldn’t overhear him. He had seen the android’s mouth quirk and shape to mirror appropriate animations while communicating, but not once had the android put all of his pearly whites up for display.

Castiel stared at the detective before allowing his lips to curl back. Only his mouth smiled, however, and the rest of the android’s face was devoid of emotion.

“Never mind,” Dean told him. “It’s not a good look on you.”

They approached the ticket line where one after another people slid their IDs through a reader making it click-click like a metronome. The monotonous rhythm was interrupted when Dean and Castiel moved to the manual window to show their guest passes to the attendant. Everyone standing behind them and the attendant herself gave Dean a hateful glare.

As quickly as her fingers could fly the attendant typed up a few notes including home section, occupation, reason for displacement. “Official business” earned Dean another poisonous look like he was personally responsible for the kitchen’s numbers being off. When the attendant turned to address Castiel, Dean really let her have it.

“My friend is from out of city,” he said.

“Home city?” the attendant asked irritably.

Before Castiel could respond Dean interjected with, “All records are to be credited to the police department. No details. Official business.”

“How long will you be eating in our section?”

“Until further notice,” Dean replied taking in an unnecessary amount of glee from the woman’s suffering.

“Place your thumbs on the scanner,” the woman ordered.

Dean held his breath for a moment hoping that since the scientists had been cautious enough to supply Castiel with some semblance of manhood, they hadn’t forgotten to give the android finger prints. When the machine didn’t react negatively Dean’s lungs relaxed.

“No free choices,” she said. The woman passed them two temporary meal tickets and sent them on their way to pick up their food.

Once their trays had been filled with the minimum allowance, Dean checked their tickets to see what table they had been assigned. Apparently the section of tables was specifically reserved for visitors. Those already occupying the space kept their eyes down and only stared at their food without speaking to each other. Dean and Castiel claimed their own corner spot. Although they probably wouldn’t be heard over of the noise of the room they wanted to maintain some privacy.

“I take it your people eat in communal places such as these regularly.” Castiel noted.

Dean nodded. “Yeah, it’s terrible eating in a strange diner. At least in my own section I eat with Sam and Jess. We have our own spot that we eat at regularly and so do our neighbors. It’s actually quite nice and gives us a sense of community.”

The detective didn’t think there was anything as awkward as eating by one’s self in a diner. The other visitors were sneaking envious glances at the jovial crowds of people laughing and talking about their day. The food also tasted better in the company of friends no matter what the chemists said about the formulas being perfectly uniform in every city. Dean took a bite out of the yeast bread and winced at the taste. No free choice meant their food would be only slightly better than at the barracks.

“You may have my portion, if you wish.” Castiel told him.

“Heck no.” Dean replied slightly scandalized. Then he remembered and explained, “That’s bad manners. You have to eat or people will get suspect something’s not right.”

The detective watched for a moment as the android took a perfect bite. Too perfect, actually, so that the motion didn’t look quite natural. Now that Dean was certain Castiel was an android all sorts of clues danced before his eyes like how Castiel’s Adam’s apple didn’t move when the android swallowed. Stranger still was how the tiny quirks didn’t bother Dean so much like he was slowly adjusting to the machine’s presence.  Dean pondered what it would be like to leave Earth. Would he be able to work along side androids? Of course, colonists did it everyday.

“Is it bad manners to watch a man while he eats?” Castiel asked suddenly.

“If you stare at him directly,” Dean admitted slightly embarrassed that the android had caught him staring, although Dean hadn’t been looking at Castiel exactly.

“I see,” the android then explained, “Then why do I count eight people watching us?”

“What.” Dean looked around, but among the thrall of humanity he couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary.

“It could be a coincidence,” Castiel said. “But six of them were outside the shop yesterday.”

“Crud.” Dean scooped up another bite of food. “Are they close?”

“No,” Castiel said. “They are scattered.”

“Alright.” Dean forced himself to relax and eat. It didn’t do them any good to deal with possible anti-robot terrorists or whatever if he fainted from hunger. Behind his sour expression the gears of Dean’s mind were turning furiously.  


	9. Another Suspect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean calls in an expert to help with the case.

 

Castiel finished his meal and laid his too perfect hands on the end of the table. “Shouldn’t we do something?” he asked referring to the eight sets of eyes upon them.

“We’ll be safe in the diner,” Dean promised. “Just leave this to me. I mean it, Cas.”

The detective gave the android a pointed look. Dean hoped Castiel hadn’t caught the anxious ba-thump of his heart as he lied.

Looking around at the diner, it was like the detective was looking at it for the first time. Over two thousand people were chatting away at the tables and this diner was only about average sized.

‘ _If these people were to riot…_ ’ Dean wondered. ‘ _In the pandemonium would they be able to tell the difference between human and android once they realized what Castiel was and how human he appeared? Would the rioters, in their panic, tear each other apart?_ ’

The detective shrugged off the thought. In reality a riot could happen anywhere, in the diner, in the corridor, or on the streets. Dean couldn’t find it in himself to hold Dr. Finnerman and the other colonists’ caution against them.

 _‘But if an extremist group planned a riot_ ,’ Dean mused. _‘The planners would be trapped in the riot with us._ ’ Dean had read history files about suicidal extremist’s movements. He had hoped terrestrials had evolved past those kinds of gruesome tactics.

“Why don’t you arrest them?” Castiel asked as if sensing Dean’s inner conflict.

“That would only light the fuse faster,” Dean snapped. He looked at Castiel for a second. “You know their faces. You won’t forget?”

“I’m incapable of forgetting,” Castiel told him.

“Then we’ll pick them up for questioning later,” Dean said and stood up.  “For now, follow me. Do exactly as I do.”

Dean led Castiel over to the depository where they could put the soiled dishes to be cleaned before heading to the exit. The detective looked back at the sea of humanity. Without his permission Dean’s mind flashed back to the first time he had taken Ben to the Zoo. Lisa’s son hadn’t seen living cats and dogs before. The Zoo even had a bird exhibit with hundreds of sparrows flocking together. No matter how many times he saw them, Dean was not immune to the magnificent sight of the winged creatures.

After a short time in the air the sparrows landed. All together the birds had been loud and chattering as they sat together in their trough. That was what Dean saw then, humans sitting and chattering in a trough of their own. It unnerved the detective to make the connection.

“They’re getting up too,” Castiel informed him.

 “There’s got to be a better way,” Dean let slip in a low tone.

“Excuse me?” Castiel asked.

“It’s nothing,” Dean assured him and turned back to the exit. “Are you ready, Castiel?”

 “Of course,” the android replied.

There was a game children liked to play using the moving sidewalks. The city was huge and expecting someone to be able to cross it in a timely manner even with the help of trains was unthinkable without the help of the sidewalk-strips. The moving sidewalks ran at varying speeds. The point of the game was like “follow the leader” only the leader’s objective was to lose his followers in the crowd and make it to the end point alone. The game was exceptionally challenging during rush hour when there were even more commuters packed in the lanes.

 Dean hadn’t played in years, but he remembered the sight of Sammy making a mad dash down the accelerated strips trying to keep up. At the time young Dean had simply waited on the moving sidewalk he was on and watched Sam erroneously hop one strip too far and shoot past him. Dean had made a face at his brother before nimbly navigating the strips and losing his followers entirely thus winning the game.

Regular commuters, police, and schools considered the children troublemakers and a menace to the efficiency of the city. It never crossed their minds that the skills acquired in play could be very valuable later in life.

“Follow me,” Dean ordered his companion.

* * *

 

“There’s only one left,” Castiel informed him. Dean nodded and led his mechanical partner to an alley and stopped in front of a power station’s side door.

“We’ll lose him in here.” Dean said and held up his badge. Castiel instantly understood and pulled out his own badge as well.

Being a police officer came with many benefits, the least of which was holding half of what could be considered a key to the city. Nearly every door in the city had door scanners that permitted only authorized personnel to unlock them. Depending on the level of security a police badge acted somewhat like a master key since the city technically owned everything within the city limits. The trick, however, to avoid abuse of power and to prevent an officer from barreling into danger alone, the master key function only worked if there were two badges present and at least one had to be a detective’s badge.

The door gave a screech of protest since side exits were for emergency use only. As expected a plant security guard showed up only moments later to see what the fuss was about.

“Official business,” Dean said curtly. The guard looked displeased, but allowed the detectives to pass with out question.

“Stay behind the red lines,” Dean warned his companion. The air hummed with the groan of machines and Dean could practically taste the electricity being generated. Dean stopped and frowned before he turned to Castiel. “Wait, that doesn’t matter to you, does it?”

“It does matter to me,” Castiel replied. “The radiation would interrupt the delicate circuitry of a positronic brain.”

“It would… kill you?” Dean fumbled over the right term for the android equivalent of brain dead.

“I would require a new positronic brain,” the android explained. “The base system would be the same, but I would, in essence, be a completely different individual.”

“Why are you even telling me this?” Dean asked.

“You’re my partner, Dean.” Cas replied like the statement was obvious. “Although the scientists in Sterling Town would rather advertise my strengths, not my faults, as my partner you should be made aware of my weaknesses, at the very least, for your own safety.”

* * *

 

The single room apartment only had one closet and two beds to share between them. There wasn’t even a basin and Dean had forgotten what a luxury that had been. He doubted their pursuers could pinpoint their exact apartment, but he made a mental note to be careful and use the public facilities during the slow periods where there would be fewer people to riot.

Dean was sitting on the bed collecting his thoughts when Castiel began undressing. The android set aside his coat before undoing his tie. Once the tie was laid carelessly over the coat Castiel began removing his white dress shirt with the same concentration he gave everything else.

“What are you doing?” Dean asked confused by the unexpected strip tease. Well, to be fair, the android stopped once the buttons were undone so there was less stripping and even less teasing to make the detective uncomfortable.

“I need to remove the food from earlier,” Castiel explained. “I don’t have any digestive fluids. It should still be consumable.”

Turning green at the thought Dean held up his hand in refusal. “I’m not hungry, thanks.”

In a similar manner to which Castiel had shown Dean the inner workings of his arm, the android pressed a complex pattern into the skin of chest below his left nipple. The skin of his abdomen unzipped revealing a cavity with a clear sack filled with the chewed, but undigested food.

Dean watched the process in fascination until a buzzer sounded indicating someone was at the door. The detective froze for a minute before silently signaling for Castiel to get himself zipped back up. Dean pulled out his service weapon and carefully opened the door.

“Ow! Dean!” a familiar voice squawked. “You didn’t have to grab me!”

“ _Ben_?” Dean dropped the boy’s arm and holstered his gun. “What are you doing here?”

“I called the office,” The teenager replied with a clear _harrumph_ to his tone.

“And they _told_ you?” Dean exclaimed appalled at the lack of security.

“Why wouldn’t they?” Ben asked confused. It was at that moment that the boy realized they weren’t alone. He pointed to Castiel. “Who’s that?”

“That is my partner,” Dean replied flatly. He saw that Castiel was still holding the sac, but had managed to cover himself. There was awkwardness to the whole scene that Dean shoved to the back of his mind. He turned back to Ben and asked, “And don’t even think about changing the subject. Does your mom know you’re here?”

“Maybe,” Ben replied shiftily. Dean sighed.

“Call her and let her know you’re okay.” Dean ordered. “You can stay the night, but I will be dropping your off first thing tomorrow.”

“Dean,” Castiel said. “The case takes precedence. We can’t have him here.”

“Oh, you’re a detective.” Ben nodded understandingly.

“What else would he be?” Dean asked suspiciously. “Never mind. Cas, look, it’s fine. I don’t think we would have made any breakthroughs tonight anyway and I’m not sending him home alone.”

“He seems quite able,” Castiel argued.

“I’m sorry if I’m causing problems,” Ben started.

“It’s fine.” Dean reiterated sternly. “Go call your mom. Use the hallway phone. _Now_.”

“Fine.” Ben huffed.

“Dean I really suggest-“

“Castiel, I’m ordering you to drop the subject.” Dean snapped.

The android instantly became silent.

“Take care of your personal business.” Dean pointed to the sack still in the android’s hand. “Do you mind if Ben takes the bed? No, wait. Dumb question.”

“Understood, Dean.” Castiel replied mechanically. “Is there anything else?”

“No.”

“Very well.” Castiel said, “Have a good night, Dean.”

* * *

 

Ben slept like a rock despite the less than four star mattress. Dean ended up tossing and turning most of the night. He wanted to blame the mattress, but his restlessness probably had more to do with the silent figure sitting in a chair off to the corner. Castiel didn’t move once during the night and Dean couldn’t help but feel unnerved by the android’s stoic presence. Regardless of the cause, Dean’s lack of sleep made him late dropping Ben back off at Lisa’s place and consequently even later to work.

That afternoon A. Sami snuck up on Dean again to tell him that, once again, the commissioner wanted to see him. Dean marched upstairs to Bobby Singer’s office, but before Dean could complain about using A. Sami as a messenger (something Dean now suspected Bobby did more to annoy him than for practical reasons), Commissioner Singer interrupted.

“You made a call to Washington for a Dr. Lindberg,” Bobby said as if daring Dean to contradict him.

“That’s right,” Dean admitted.

“He’s a roboticist, isn’t he?”

“That’s right.”

“I don’t like it, Dean.”

Dean crossed his arms defensively. “It’s for the case. I think having more information would help. What do you and me know about androids? Next to nothing that’s what.”

“ _Classified_ , Dean.” Bobby argued back. “The fewer people who know about this the better.”

“Are you saying I can’t see him?”

“No,” Bobby sighed and backed off. “You’re still lead on this investigation. It’s just…”

“Just what, Bobby?”

“We’re not making a whole lot of headway.” The commissioner rubbed his forehead. “And where is he?”

“We’re not making _any_ headway,” Dean grumbled. “Castiel is still looking over the files.”

“ _Still_?”

“Yes.”

“Fine, dismissed.”

When Dean returned to his desk, Castiel was waiting. “I’ve completed a quick search and have identified two of our pursuers from last night who were also at the store riot.”

“Alright, let’s see.” Dean took the tablet from Castiel’s hand and reviewed what the android had found.

Gordon Walker and Ennis Roth, in his hands Dean had their age, their build, their occupations, their addresses. Walker had been arrested two years prior for inciting a riot.

“This doesn’t do us much good,” Dean admitted.

“We should bring them in for questioning,” Castiel insisted. “We need to determine if they are members of an extremist group.”

Dean gave the tablet back to Castiel and shook his head. “We’ve got nothing on them.”

“But they were both in the kitchen and at the store.”

“Being there isn’t a crime, Cas,” Dean countered. “And they’ll just tell the judge they weren’t there, simple as that.”

“I saw them.”

“Not a judge on this planet is going to believe that you can remember two faces out of millions. How are we supposed to get a warrant?” Dean asked. “And if you tell them what you are, you’re no longer a witness. You’ll have no rights under any law on Earth.”

“So you’ve changed your mind then?”

“What?”

“You said yesterday as long as I remembered their faces we could arrest them at anytime,” Castiel pointed out. “Was that not true?”

“I made a mistake, Cas.” Dean grumbled. “I’m human. We tend to do that on a regular basis.”

“What about for psychological pressure?” Castiel asked. “They wouldn’t know that we didn’t have proof of their compliance in a conspiracy.”

“Look,” Dean deflected. “I’m expecting a Dr. Lindberg in about twenty minutes. Do you mind waiting until I finish my meeting with him?”

“Yes, I’ll wait,” Castiel replied.

* * *

 

Despite being a world expert on robots and androids Ashley “Ash” Lindberg looked more like a bum than a scientist, even the mad kind. The man was younger than Dean and had a hair cut and style of dress so out of date Dean might not be able to find it in his good conscience to call Bobby Singer sentimental ever again. Dean couldn’t tell if they guy looked high, hungover, or both even though the quota rationing made such irrational behaviors supposedly impossible.

Regardless of the scientist’s unscrupulous appearance Dean gave the younger man a strong handshake and offered the man a chair. The detective had checked the room earlier for sound leaks and was confident that their conversation would not escape the room.

“Is there a reason for all the hush-hush?” Ash asked curiously looking around the insulated room.

“It’s an open murder investigation,” Dean explained. “Because of the high profile nature of the case the City will expect you to forget everything we discuss or be faced with charges of your own.”

“Whoa.” Ash said with mild awe.

“Theoretically speaking,” Dean began. “How would you feel about exiting the City and crossing open country?”

“That’s crazy,” Ash said immediately.

“That’s not something a human is likely to do?”

The scientist made a noise with his lips. “Out of millions somebody’s either hardy enough or stupid enough to do it I guess. I certainly wouldn’t.”

“We have reason to believe that our murderer crossed open ground to commit the crime.” Dean said. “However, I have an alternate theory in mind.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“It has crossed my mind that a robot or even an android could cross open ground with out a problem.”

“Whoa! Hold your stallions, man!” Ash stood up in outrage to cut Dean off. “You think an _android_ killed somebody?”

“Please sit down.”Dean ordered.

Ash obeyed. “A human crossing open ground is unlikely, but an android committing a murder is impossible. You’re barking up the wrong tree.”

“Impossible is a strong word.”

“First Law of Robotics,” Ash said.

“I know them. Can’t a robot be built without the laws?” Dean countered. “It’s not like the laws of physics.”

“It is _completely_ like the laws of physics,” Ash insisted. “The positronic brain is a complex harmony between math, computer programming, and electrical engendering. The code for artificial intelligence is more complex than human DNA.” Ash ranted on, “Even the simplest upgrade requires a full staff and at least a year to draw up and test out. No two brains are even the same! Even if they have the exact same starter code the minute the brain starts recording information it becomes its own thing!”

“Calm down, Ash.” Dean said and rubbed his forehead.  He asked, “So, what you’re saying is that in order to make a robot without the laws you’d have to write up a whole new science?”

“It would take years, possibly decades to write up a whole new robotics theory and trust me, everybody in the field would know about it.”Ash explained. “Not that anybody would really want to do it.”

“Why not?”

“Everybody’s too scared that they’ll end up with Frankenstein’s monster.” Ash told him. “I know terrestrians all have the heebie-jeebies when it comes to robots. Did you think scientists were any different?”

“Just one moment.” Dean said. The detective opened the conference door and invited Castiel in to join them. “This is my partner on the case. He’s a detective from Sterling Town.”

“Oh!” Ash looked at Castiel excitedly and moved to shake his hand. “It’s nice to meet you. I’ve never met a colonist face to face.”

“It’s nice to meet you as well, Dr. Lindberg,” Castiel greeted.

“Call me ‘Ash’, please,” the scientist insisted. The three of them sat down again.

“I just have a couple more questions,” Dean told him. “How familiar are you with advancements colonists have made in the field of robotics?”

Ash shrugged. “We don’t keep in touch if that’s what you mean. There is only the occasional polite exchange of advancements or debugging techniques, but that’s about it.”

“So then you wouldn’t know if colonists had succeeded in getting around the three laws,” Dean asked.

“No, we’d definitely know about that kind of advancement.” Ash said. “It’s not something that a crack team can do overnight. It would take years and at the same time there wouldn’t really be a point.”

“Would you know then if colonists had succeeded in making an android so human looking it could pass as a human with little difficultly?” Dean questioned.

“I-“ Ash stopped and looked at Castiel more closely. His eyes grew comically large and the scientist leapt to his feet. “Oh, oh my god! That’s amazing! I mean, it’s obvious now by how his carries himself, but that’s absolutely incredible!”

“Castiel is a very special kind of android.” Dean admitted. “However, what I’ll need you to do, Ash, is confirm whether or not Castiel is complaint with the laws of robotics.”

Ash frowned, “And why do you think I need to do that?”

“I think the reason we couldn’t find the murder weapon was because you had hidden it, Castiel,” Dean accused. “And you removed the gun from the crime scene in your food sack!”


	10. First Law

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end is in sight! Only two more chapters! Sorry for the long break. Also, this chapter is poorly edited because I don't have a beta and my internet sucks. It only works after the stroke of midnight on alternating Tuesdays. If you see a mistake, please let me know in the comments and I will fix it ASAP.

“I did no such thing,” Castiel defended quietly and Dean huffed in response.

“We’ll let Ash be the one to decide that,” the detective reasoned. He turned to the roboticist who had been glancing back and forth between the robot and detective anxiously. “You can use the forensics lab if you need to,” Dean told him.

Ash shook his head. “I don’t need a lab.”

“You don’t?” 

“You want to know if Castiel was built with the First Law, right?” Ash reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a personal-organizer. “That’s easy enough to test. Not that I’ve ever had to, but I have everything I need right here.”

“You do?” Dean asked skeptically.

“If I were a medical doctor and I wanted to test your blood sugar, I would need a lab for that.” Ash explained. “But if I wanted to test your vision I could just wave my fingers in front of your face. I only have to pick _A. Castiel's_ brain a little. It’ll be as simple and painless as tapping your knee with a rubber hammer.”

“So you’re basically just going to give him an android physical?”

“That about sums it up.” Ash agreed. “The more fundamental something is, the simpler the test. The First Law of Robotics is so fundamental that if an android didn’t have it, the signs would be as obvious as if I tapped your knee and nothing happened.” Ash held up his device to show Dean. “It’s my _Handbook of Robotics_. I’d feel naked without it even though I have most of it memorized. This is more sacred to me than any bible, so just take a seat while I consult the good word.”

The scientist arranged it so that Castiel was seated in a chair across from him while Dean was set off to the side as an observer. As Ash did his preparations the android watched closely and unemotionally. Dean shifted slightly to feel the comforting stab of his service weapon dig into his side. His blaster was probably the only piece of machinery Dean trusted farther than he could throw it.

After Ash began his tests Dean became confused. The scientist asked Castiel several seemingly random questions and asked the android to perform simple actions.

“Touch the tip of my middle finger to the tip of the third finger of your left hand,” Ash told him. Castiel obeyed promptly with ease much faster than Dean could puzzle out the question.

“If I have two cousins five years apart in age and the youngest is a girl,” Ash said after glaceing at his handbook. “What is the sex of the older?”

“It is impossible to determine with the information given,” Castiel replied and Ash checked his stop watch. After fifteen minutes of “testing” Ash called a conclusion to his examination and determined that Castiel indeed had been built with the Laws included.

“There’s no way that’s right.” Dean grumbled. “You didn’t ask anything even remotely relating to the First Law.”

“You brought me in as an expert in my field,” Ash pointed out. His body posture grew defensive. “Are you going to tell me how to do my job now? Maybe we should get your eyes checked.”  
“I’m not telling you how to do you job.” Dean argued. “What if he falsified his answers? You’re so-called bible is available publically and Castiel has probably read it.”

Ash sighed. “Unlike an organic brain a positronic brain is a human invention. It’s completely analyzable and can be deconstructed and studied in every way possible. Understanding that much you have to believe me when I say that androids simply can’t falsify information. It’s too complex of an idea. Even if you don’t believe robots to be bound by the Laws, you have to understand, detective, that scientists as people are bound by the Law of practicality.”

“He was able to pull a gun on a crowd of people!” Dean exclaimed frazzled. “That violates the First Law right there, right?”

“That is rather strange,” Ash admitted dejectedly. “But my findings are sound. It’s an anomaly, but…”

Castiel interrupted. “Not at all, Ash. I believe this issue is a misunderstanding between myself and Dean that is easily cleared up.” Castiel removed his service weapon and passed it to Dean. “All you have to do is examine the weapon and that should clear up any confusion.”

Dean took the weapon hesitantly and cradled is in his hands. The gun was standard and not very different from Dean’s own. The detective glanced over the gun unsure what he was looking for exactly.

“Open it.” Castiel urged.

Keeping in mind that one of the world’s most renounce experts insisted that it was impossible for Castiel to pull a fast on him, Dean opened the chamber and finally saw what the android meant. Stunned Dean turned the gun over and around to be sure.

“It’s empty.” Dean said in a hush. “....There’s not charge. There’s no ignition caps. This isn’t a gun, it’s a hunk of junk!”

Dean turned to Castiel accusingly. “You pulled an unusable gun on a crowd?” He paused. “Wait, you said it was a deadly weapon! That was a lie!”

“It’s a deadly weapon when charged, Dean. That is why I carry an uncharged weapon.” Castiel said in what was a mildly affronted tone, or at least as affronted as an android could muster. “As a plain clothes detective I have to carry a service weapon, but I could still hurt someone on accident. That of course is unthinkable so this method is the only solution. I would have explained the situation to you at the time, but you were very upset and probably wouldn’t have listened.”

Letting the information sink in all Dean could do was stare at the gun in his hands unseeingly and collapse back into his chair.

“So, we all good then?” Ash asked hesitantly.

* * *

Once of the privileges of being a police officer was Dean could get his lunch sent to his desk with the understanding that he was hard at work protecting the citizens of their fine city and didn’t have time to run down to the kitchen to get it himself. When his lunch arrived, however, all Dean could do was stare at it distastefully. It was a perfectly balanced and even flavorful bounty yeast cake along with an almost drool worthy slice of chicken breast on a cracker as the kitchen works’ compassionate attempt at a ‘thank you’ to Sioux Fall’s finest.

Dean didn’t feel worthy of the gesture. The events from last few days, all totaling less than fifty hours even, from the moment Bobby had assigned him the case to present hung over Dean like a dark cloud. Twice he had accused Castiel of murder and twice it had all been his misunderstanding of the situation. Some detective he was.

“Dean? Dean!” Officer Green waved a hand in front of Dean’s face to get his attention. The motion snapped Dean out of his pity party.

“What?” Dean suppressed his irritability for the sake of the more senior officer.

“Your door was open,” Officer Green pointed behind him. “You were just sitting there with your eyes open and near as I could tell you were dead to the world.” He paused. “Is that chicken? Damn, you need like a doctor’s note to get the good stuff now days.”

“Take some,” Dean offered not feeling hungry.

Officer Green seemed to consider it, but was too polite to accept. “Nah, I was just about to get lunch myself. So what’s up with you and the Commish? Promotion in the works?”

“No nothing like that,” Dean told him. Definitely not with how his currently case was going and Dean didn’t need a reminder that they were all on the chopping block and didn’t know it. “If you want him, you can have him. Godfather or not, I’m about to disown. If I’m feeling generous he might get visiting rights for Sammy every other weekend.”

Officer Green laughed. “Don’t get me wrong. If you get a promotion it’s because you deserved it. Bobby doesn’t tolerate slackers, family or not. He’s almost like a brother to me or maybe just that weird cousin you only talk to at awkward family reunions. Whatever, but if you know his softspot maybe you can talk the commissioner around.”

“Around?” Dean asked, but his answer was clear when a young man stepped into the room. Brain Wilcox, the young office aid A. Sami had replaced, waved timidly at Dean. The kid looked tired, lean, and broken.

Declassified, Dean thought. “Hey Brian. How’s it going?”

“Hello Detective Winchester.” Brain greeted. “Not so great, to be honest. I keep coming back hoping something will open up.”

“This has got to stop, Dean,” Officer Green said. “They kicked out Fitzgerald last week.”  
“Garth?” Dean asked shaken. “He was a Class 4. He’s been with the department for almost ten years.”

“And his replacement has a 15 year warranty.” Officer Green straitened his back to try and sooth the tension. “We could be next.”

“Androids can’t carry guns,” Dean pointed out. “First Law.”

“When you can roll officers by the dozen off an assembly line, would you really need a gun?” Officer Green asked.

“Guns would be cheaper.” Dean replied smartly. Officer Green chuckled at that and had to admit Dean had a point. He left the detective to his moping, but it wasn’t long before Castiel made his appearance.

“The commissioner isn’t in his office and it isn’t known when he would be back.” Castiel reported. “I’ve told _A. Sami_ we’ll be using it and to let only the commissioner in when he returns.”

“Why are we using the commissioner’s office, Cas?”

“For greater privacy,” Castiel told him. “You wish to continue the investigation, yes?”

“Fine,” Dean stood up with a groan and followed the android up to Bobby’s office. One the door was closed Dean rounded on the android. “What is it you wanted to talk to me abou?”

“Are you feeling alright, Dean?”

“Excuse me?”

“From your brain waves you appear to be in distress,” Castiel explained.

“From my… Cas, are you doing some science mumbo jumbo psychic reading me?” Dean asked. “That’s like a breach of privacy isn’t it.”

“I can’t read your thoughts, Dean, but I can to an extent detect strong levels of emotions.” Castiel told him. “You’ll recall my original function was to study human psychology for Sterling Town’s research.”

“Yeah, yeah, robot spy. I remember that part.” Dean muttered.

“I was the one who did the cerebral analysis on the commissioner to determine if he is able to commit a murder.” Castiel said. “It doesn’t require wires or nodes. I merely study the signature and monitor temperature. It’s easy enough to determine a man’s state of mind and from what I am reading you are not your usual self.”

“Wait, Bobby didn’t know you were reading him?”

“There was no need to further upset him.” Castiel said. “Your distress originates from a clash of beliefs within yourself. Do you need to speak them out loud? It’s an old and yet very effective therapeutic method.”

“No thank, Cas. I don’t want to discuss my feelings.” Dean replied dryly. He thought of something. “But I think we can move forward on the case those. I still don’t think a conspiracy is behind the murder.”

“Why not? That is the logical conclusion.”

“Because they’re simply not as organized as you think they are.” Dean argued. “They’re crackpots, but they’re harmless. If they wanted to start a riot, they could have done that at the store. They know you’re an android and they know because of that you can’t hurt them. My ex-girlfriend’s son found out where we were staying by calling the office and he’s a child! If it wasn’t for the fact that I’m an idiot and know next to nothing about robotics, we could have figured this out by now.”

“Dean.”

“Cas if you could analyze the medievalist movement the same way you did Bobby you’d know they were just as incapable as he is to commit murder.” Dean said with a firm period at the end.

“There are discrepancies we haven’t covered,” Castiel pointed out. “You arranged to meet with Ash before the meal. You didn’t know about my food sac until then.”

“I still suspected you though, even before that.”

“And another thing,” Castiel said. “How did Sam know I was an android?”

“We’re not even going there.” Dean growled. “Sammy’s a smart guy. A lot smarter than me.”

“Ash, a world expert, didn’t realize until you said something.” Calmly in an attempt to keep Dean from becoming defensive Castiel said, “I think you are letting your personal feelings overshadow a distinct possibility. Both Sam and Jess express medievalist ideas.”  
“They support healthy living!” Dean snapped. “That’s all. So they’re into that ‘back to the soil’ shit and organic living. It’s a just a fad!”

“It’s a major part of the medievalist movement and is not mutually excluded from anti-android movements.” Castiel said. “You’ve accused me of murder twice and yet you think it’s impossible of your brother? He’s human and you think he wouldn’t be enraged at the thought for you possibly losing your job to an android? What about his job or his wife’s? Do you think he wouldn’t be capable of murder then if it prevented you from being declassified again?

“How do you know about that?” Dean growled.

“It’s on record Dean.” Castiel stated. “The point I’m making is you’re ignoring possible evidence based on personal feelings.”

“Well, sue me.” Dean said. “And what evidence are you going on other than that Sammy just happened to notice you’re an android? That’s the very definition speculative.”

“We are detectives, Dean. We need to examine every speculation.”

“Sam wouldn’t hurt a fly.” Dean insisted. “And Jess is only a danger to others once a month.”

“Dean.”

Castiel’s next argument was cut off by A. Sami’s interruption saying there was someone waiting downstairs for him. Dean checked his pockets and realized he had left his mobile phone on his desk. Suspecting that the timing was just a little too perfect Dean left the room to speak with his brother who was indeed waiting for him.

“We need to talk, Dean.” Sam hissed quietly. “You didn’t call and I was worried.”

“I’m sorry, I was busy.” Dean told him. His brother seemed more upset than missing a few calls should have caused. “What is it? What’s wrong? Is Jess okay?”

“We’re find, mostly, it’s just…” Sam ran his finger through his hair. “We really need to talk, Dean. There’s something you need to know.”

“This had better not lead to Cas saying ‘I told you do’ because that would piss me off more than anything you could possibly say to me.” Dean sighed. “Did you kill anybody?”

“What? No!”

“Alright, Cas and I have commandeered Bobby’s office. We’ll talk in there.” Dean led the way back upstairs where Castiel was still waiting.

“Hello, Sam.” Castiel greeted.

“ _Android_ Castiel.”

“Alright, Sammy. What did you do?” Dean leaned over Bobby’s vacant chair.

“Nothing that would get me arrested.” Sam told him.

Dean raised an eyebrow. “And you’re sure about that?”

“Dean.” Sam looked at him without humor. “I’m being serious. No, I haven’t done anything illegal, but I have been to anti-android meetings. Meeting isn’t illegal.”

“It is if these meetings lead to conspiracy to commit murder.” Dean pointed out.

“Murder?” Sam asked taken-aback. “You can’t _murder_ an android. It’s a _machine_.”

“I’m not talking about an android, Sam.” Dean said. “But now that you mention it, did any of these meetings mention plans to commit property damage or any attempt to harm an android?”

“Yes, and that’s why Jess and I stopped going! I'm a lawyer, Dean!" Sam exhaled sharply. "Anyway, we have a much bigger issue.” Sam admitted. “While I'm all all for going organic and going back to soil, these guys are talking workers’ strikes. At the yeast farms! It's insane!”

That made Dean pause. “You’re kidding. That’d be committing mass murder. The whole planet would starve in a year!”

“I know!” Sam shouted.

“And counter productive.” Castiel added. “If the yeast workers went on strike your officials would have no choice but to utilize androids to make up the difference. They might even be willing to import them from the Outer Worlds to avoid a crisis.”

“Shit,” Dean said. “How many look like you again?”

“I’m an exception, Dean.” Castiel said. “But our androids are still significantly more sophisticated.”

“I need _names_ , Sam.” the detective told his brother sternly. “Where were these meetings held?”

“Underground. Literately.” Sam replied. “The old Amtrak routes that are supposed to be closed off, but we never ran into any patrolmen. There would be about sixty or seventy members usually who would show up. I think most people just did it for the thrill of being part of a secret.”

“Crackpots, but not dangerous or organized.” Dean surmised. "Hopefully not enough to actually strike, anyway."

Sam nodded. “They brought in guest speakers who were a little out there, but usually Jess and I would leave by then.”

“Do you know who they are?”

“No, they never gave their names.”

Dean waved Castiel over so the android could show Sam their collection of persons of interest. Castiel had narrowed down the list somewhat, but Sam still shook his head negatively after seeing the faces. It seemed like Sam and Jess’s group were clean.

“Wait,” Dean interrupted and pulled up a file. “Who mentioned the workers’ strikes?”

“Uh, short guy.” Sam described, “Black hair with a short mustache and beard, oval face. I remember him because he smelled like the stuff they used to serve us in the barracks.”

“ _Fergus Crowley_.” Castiel said and pointed to the file.


	11. For That Which is Sacred

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's almost solved the case!

Dean and Castiel took a cruiser to pick up Crowley. Running his ID card had confirmed the man was clocked in to work at the yeast plant. Dean was expecting a quiet ride, but Castiel was oddly curious about something.

“You’re not going to arrest Sam?” the android asked. “He is involved in a possible conspiracy and as an officer it is your duty to uphold the law, is it not?”

“Cas,” Dean sighed. “I look out for my brother no matter what. The bond between family is more sacred than any written law.”

“Sacred,” the android repeated. “I am unfamiliar with that concept. Ash used it to describe his handbook on robotics.”

“It means more than that,” Dean explained. “Ash was using an overstatement to illustrate his point or to be funny or whatever, but sacred means...” He struggled a moment to think of a way to explain the idea to a mechanical mind. “It’s means something is special and is meant for the good of all man kind. As Sam’s older brother I have a duty to protect him even if it means protecting him from the written laws because I believe in a sacred, higher law.”

“How can there be a higher law?” Castiel inquired. “That’s a contradiction.”

“Because a sacred law something that’s felt and you can’t put feelings into words.” Dean explained. “Humans can try. Poets and song writers think they can get close, but you simply can’t put feelings into words and in order for laws to be upheld and respected by everyone equally they have to be written down.”

“So your sacred laws aren’t written into normal laws? How do you uphold them?” Castiel asked. Dean could almost read the lines of ones and zeros running around the android’s head trying to make sense of what Dean was saying, trying to adhere to his justice programming where all laws are upheld. The detective was worried Cas might fry a node or something, but the detective pressed on.

“We try.” Dean admitted. “We have sacred texts like the Bible or the Quran. They describe the feeling as best they can and people try to understand the feeling as best they can.” Dean said, “The problem is people don’t feel things the same way. They have different experiences that define who they are. I’m close to Sam because he’s all I have left, but Ben is an only child so he wouldn’t understand what it’s like to have a sibling bond. I might not always _like_ Sam, but I’ll always love him because he’s my brother.”

Dean held up his hand before Castiel could interject.

“Yes, I know. It’s a contradiction to love but not like my brother, but like I said those are feelings.” Dean sighed. “I’m also the farthest thing from an expert on feelings.”

Castiel asked instead. “You mentioned the Bible.”

“I’m not exactly a church goer,” Dean admitted. “I vaguely remember it at best.”

“What do you remember?”

Dean stopped the cruiser and closed his eyes to think. Crowley wasn’t going anywhere in the next five minutes. He owed Castiel that much at least or so he thought. Dean hummed a moment then said, “I remember one story: 

“ _‘Jesus went to the mount of Olives and at dawn returned to the temple. All the people came to him and he sat down and preached to them. The Scribes and Pharisees brought to him a woman caught in adultery and when they had placed her before him they said to him, “Teacher, this woman was caught in the very act of adultery. Now Moses, in the law, commanded to us to stone such offenders. What do you say?_ ’

“They said this to trap him,” Dean explained.

“I understand,” Castiel replied. “The law demanded that the woman be punished for her crime, but the punishment would lead to the woman’s harm and that is also unacceptable.”

Dean grinned. “Yeah, but Jesus was a smart guy. At first he ignored them because what they were asking for was ridiculous and when they kept pressing the issue he said, ‘ _He that is without sin among you, let him be the first to cast a stone at her_.’ And those that heard went away one by one, beginning with the oldest down to the last person until at last only the Jesus and the woman were left alone. Jesus asked the woman, ‘Where are your accusers? Has no one condemned you?’ The woman replied, ‘No one, Lord.’ And so Jesus says to her, ‘Nor do I condemn you. Go, and sin no more.”

Castiel tilted his head as he processed this new knowledge. Finally he asked, “What is adultery?”

Dean coughed. “It doesn’t matter,” the detective said. “It was a crime and at the time it was punishable by stoning which meant was throwing rocks at her until she died.”

“I know the definition of stoning, Partner Dean.”

“But not adultery?”

“Perhaps my makers thought there was a higher chance of me encountering stoning and not adultery?” Castiel suggested. “But the woman in the story was guilty?”

“Yes, she was guilty.” Dean said.

“Then why wasn’t she stoned or given a lesser punishment that was equal to the crime?” Castiel asked. “Surely there were other means for her to pay for her crime?”

“None of the accusers felt he could punish the woman after Jesus’s statement.” Dean explained, “The story is mean to show that there’s a higher justice than the one we have written down or has been programmed into your coding. Humans can feel mercy and forgiveness towards each other.”

“I’m unfamiliar with those words, Dean.”

“I know, Cas. I know.” Dean sighed. He put the cruiser back in Drive and sped off towards their destination.

 

* * *

 

Dean was surprised by the level of security at the yeast plant. The food production building was more secure than the Sioux Falls Mayor’s office. The detective and his android companion had to flash their badges three times to make it to the receptionist’s desk. The dark-haired woman, “Meg” going by her nametag, gave the duo the standard perturbed glare for interrupting the natural flow of things. Her expression didn’t improve when they flashed their badges. She made a few calls before a sharp dressed businesswoman appeared. The businesswoman’s red hair was tied up neatly into a bun and she had a falsely pleasant expression slapped onto her face what was only half as convincing as _A. Sami’s_.

“I’m Josie Sands.” The woman introduced. “What’s the trouble, officers?”

Dean matched the woman’s hidden glare with an unimpressed expression of his own and her face fell a bit.

“I just don’t’ want to upset the workers,” Ms. Sands explained. “They’re touchy about police.”

“And as interesting as why that might be is, we’re just here to pick up a person of interest. There won’t be any trouble at all if we are met with cooperation,” Dean told her. “Is he in the building?”

“Yes, sir.”

“We’ll just let ourselves in then.” Dean gave the woman a stern look and added, “And if he’s gone when we get there, I’ll be speaking to you again. Probably at the station.”

Ms. Sands maintained a dead expression and nodded her compliance. It took them about twenty minutes to walk to the correct station.

“Fergus Crowley!” Dean called out to the line of workers. A man stepped out of the line and shook the dust of his apron and clothes. As he approached Dean noted he matched Sam’s description and mug shot.

“I’m Crowley,” the man said. He looked over the plainclothes detectives warily. “My shift is almost over. Can’t this wait until tomorrow?”

“Afraid not.” Dean said.

Crowley sighed. “Look, I don’t know how the Police Department, but her we have tight eating hours. I either eat between 1715 and 1800 or I don’t eat at all.”

“We’ll make arrangements,” The Detective assured him. “We just need you to answer a couple questions.”

“Arrangements?” Crowley mocked. “Well, aren’t we living the high class life now. What next? Private baths?”

“Is there somewhere we can talk?” Dean turned to Ms. Sands.

“Yes, there’s a break room.” Ms. Sands pointed.

“That’ll work.” Dean turned to Castiel. “Will you and Ms. Sands bring food?”

“Of course,” Castiel said before following the businesswoman to the Dinning area.

“I have nothing to say,” Crowley assured the detective once they had a room to themselves. The two men took a seat to make the interrogation at least appear cordial.

Dean ignored the man’s rude behavior and instead pulled up the man’s file on his phone. “You’re a chemist?” the detective asked after glancing at the file.

“A zymologist,” the man corrected loftily. “A chemist pushes a broom. I keep billions of people alive. I’m a yeast culture specialist.”

“Okay.” Dean said not quite getting what the big deal was.

Crowley sighed exasperatedly.  “There isn’t a single minute in a single day when we don’t have cultures of every strain of yeast growing in our vats. Do you remember when we started getting strawberries out of season a couple years ago? Everyone was gushing about it? Well, its’ a company secret, but I’ll have you know that those ‘strawberries’ were just a high-sugar yeast culture with a dash of food coloring. You people couldn’t even tell the difference.”

“Where were you last night between the hours of eighteen hundred and twenty hundred?” the detective asked.

“Walking probably.” Crowley shrugged. “I like to take walks after dinner.”

“Visiting someone or going to a rec-center?”

“No, I just walk.”

Dean frowned. “No one saw you then? You’re ID didn’t ping you anywhere?”

“I like the illusion of autonomy and enjoy the exercise.”

“And the night before?” Dean asked.

“The same.”

“So you don’t have an alibi for either night?” Dean asked.

“If I hadn’t done anything criminal why do I need an alibi, detective?”

Dean closed the file and leaned back. “You were previously charged with inciting a riot. That’s a crime.”

“Oh yes,” Crowley seemed to think back a moment. “I accidently tripped an android who was moving past me. Was that riot inducing?”

“You were placed at a near riot at a department store a couple days ago.”

“By whom?” Crowley baited.

“And another possible near riot in town where you were also spotted.”

“By _whom_?”

“Do you deny having been there?”

“You haven’t given me anything to deny,” Crowley said smugly. “You haven’t said where these events were or who saw me.”

A knock on the door signaled Castiel’s return with Crowley’s meal. Dean opened the door for his partner and the android set down the dinner tray in front of Crowley. Dean shut the door and said, “Mr. Crowley, I’d like to formally introduce my partner, Castiel Novak.”

“How do you do?” Castiel stretched out his hand. Crowley’s face turned red and he said and did nothing to acknowledge the android’s friendly gesture. Castiel maintained the pose for several long seconds.

“You’re being rude, Mr. Crowley.” Dean said stuffing down his amusement. “Is it some kind of low to shake hands with a police officer?”

Crowley muttered, “Sorry, but I’m hungry.” He turned to focus on the food in front of him with his eye trained on the food so he wouldn’t have to look at anything else.

“I think our friend is offended by you, Cas.” Dean asked his partner coyly. “You’re not upset by it, are you?”

“Not at all,” Castiel assured him.

“Castiel, I think that just to show that there are no hard feelings,” Dean cheerfully ordered, “You should put your arm around his shoulder.”

“I would be happy to,” Castiel said and stepped forward.

Crowley swung his arms wildly to ward of the android’s friendly embrace and knocked Castiel’s arm aside. “Don’t touch me,” he growled. In his haste to get away the man knocked his tray of food to the ground and scattered the contents.

Dean nodded to Castiel to continue and the android kept moving now in an attempt to soothe the frenzied man. Dean stepped aside to block the door and prevent Crowley’s escape.

Crowley yelled, “Keep that _thing_ away from me!”

“That’s no way to speak to an officer.” Dean chided. “That man is my partner.”

“You mean he’s a damn robot!”

“That’s enough, Cas.” Dean waved to halt Cas’s advance. The android retreated and stood quietly. Crowley was huffing in an undignified manner when Dean turned back to him. “What makes you think Cas is an android?”

“Anyone can tell!” Crowley snapped. “It’s obvious!”

“We’ll leave that to the judge,” Dean told him. “When we get back to the station I want you to tell me exactly how you knew Cas was and android and every other dirty secret you can think of.” Dean ordered Castiel to call the commissioner at home. Bobby wouldn’t want to miss the first actual break though in the case and probably would want to question Crowley himself. Castiel nodded and stepped out.

“I want a lawyer.” Crowley demanded.

“You’ll get one,” Dean promised. “But I wanted to ask something off the record about medievalists in general. What’s the point?”

Crowley huffed. “Maybe I just want actual strawberries for once and not a yeast substitute. We want to start growing things again. I want my children, if I have any, to have a better life than I do; the same life our forefathers had.”

Dean asked, “Does your plan include killing off billions of people because logistically you can’t feed Earths population on soil grown food. It’s not enough and doesn’t grow fast enough. We’ve had hundreds of years to find a solution and this is the solution we have.”

“I’m not a psychopath.” Crowley replied. “Did I say cut off the yeast supply now? Did I say we should change by tomorrow? No! It’ll take time, but I believe we can do it. Step by step until we can get out of these steel caves we’ve carved for ourselves and breathe the fresh air.”

Dean chuckled. “Have you ever smelled fresh air?” he challenged. “Have you ever gone outside?”

Crowley squirmed. “Alright, so I’m as ruined as the rest of humanity, but babies aren’t. Our children’s children can go outside at least. They could be the first in centuries.”

“So what you and your buddies are trying to do is live in an impossible past.” Dean shook his head. “That’ll never work. Not in a million years. It’s like trying to crawl back into an egg or back into a womb. You need to go forward, not backwards.” Dean could feel himself getting excited by the idea. “You should take those ideas to other worlds.”

“And make more colonists?” Crowley made a disgusted face. “More Outer Worlds like the ones we have?”

“No, no,” Dean said. “Nothing like that. Those Outer Worlds were colonized by earthmen who didn’t live in cities and have a very different cultural mindset. You could build New Cities. They’d still be like us only better because then you’d have room to grow enough real food, fresh air, and sunshine for everybody.”

Crowley looked at the detective with a stupefied look.

“And,” Dean added with emphasis. “It would be _completely_ doable. We could have our own colonies up in running in less than ten years.”

“That’s crazy!” Crowley said. “Who would even try?”

“Lots of people.” Dean shrugged. “What about the declassified? Anything way of living is better than that. We’d also have the A’s to help.”

“Absolutely not. No androids.” Crowley argued firmly.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Look, I don’t like them any better than you, but think about it. They’re machines. They’re _tools_. You don’t hate a broom for doing what broom does, do you? I think we’re afraid because the colonists made the androids that the A’s are somehow superior to us. They’re not and it’s ironic that we think they are. We just need to prove to ourselves that we’re not inferior.”

“What.”

“I’ve spent the last few days with Cas and it’s no secret that he’s stronger than me, better looking, has a better memory,” Dean listed. “He doesn’t have to sleep or eat. Doesn’t worry about how others think about him. Doesn’t need to win love or feel guilt, but he’s a _machine_. If I punch the automatic door it’s not going to hit me back, now is it? I could order Castiel to put a blaster to point a blaster to his head and he’d do it. An android will never be better than a human in ways that count. The positronic brain has limits. Androids won’t ever understand beauty or religion or things that make us human. Cas could be build to look like a god, but he’d still be as human as a brick.”

Crowley tried to interrupt several times, but couldn’t get a word in edgewise until Dean finished his rant. Feeling moderately embarrassed the first words out of the detective’s mouth when Castiel returned were, “What took you so long?”

“I apologize,” Castiel said. “It took longer than expected to get in touch with the commissioner. He was still at the office.”

Dean glanced at his watch. “Now? Why?”

“A corpse was found in the department.”

“Oh for God’s sake, who?!” Dean demanded to know.  

“The errand boy, A. Sami.”

Dean’s breath escaped in a rush and Crowley muffled a bout of giggles. “Jeeze, Cas. I thought you said a corpse! Don’t scare me like that.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I mean an android with a completely inactive positronic brain.”

“So our inferior Earth manufactured android blew a fuse,” Dean said. “What of it?”

“The commissioner was evasive, but my impression was that the deactivation was intentional.” As the information sank in Castiel added, “Or if you prefer, he was apparently murdered.”


	12. The End of a Project

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will Dean be able to solve the case? or will the investigation be halted when he is framed for A.Sami's murder?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's done! At last! Yays! I'm sorry for any mistakes! I was in a hurry to finish so I could read the next book and think about making a sequel adaption.

“Goddamnit.” Dean said as he took stock of their priorities. “One crisis at a time.” The detective pointed to Crowley and ordered, “You, start walking. We’re taking this conversation downtown.”

“But I haven’t eaten!” Crowley protested weakly. “I have a right to eat.”

“Tough,” Dean snapped and pointed to the floor. “There’s your dinner. I’d be more than happy to book you room and board for the night with a meal included. Of course I’d have to book you first.”

They checked out at the front desk where Meg gave Castiel a more critical eye of interest. She also spared Crowley a smirk as the two officers escorted him away. When they made out to the cruiser Crowley stopped and said, “Just a moment.”

Crowley turned to Castiel and before Dean could move to stop the man he swung his arm back and landed an open handed strike to the side of android’s cheek. Dean grabbed Crowley’s arms with a growl and slapped handcuffs around the yeast worker’s wrists. Crowley didn’t resist.

Dean asked him, “What the hell was that about?”           

“I just wanted to see for myself,” Crowley said with a shrug.

“That was dangerous.” Castiel said. There wasn’t any evidence, no redness, on his face because of the slap. “If I hadn’t moved back, you could have damaged your hand. As it is, I regret if you were caused any pain.”

Crowley just laughed.

“Get in,” Dean ordered with a shove. “Ride in the back with him, Cas. If he makes trouble, break his arm.”

“What? What about the first law?” Crowley asked alarmed.

“I think Cas is quick enough and strong enough to keep you from breaking anything, but you can’t be too careful.” Dean advised. “I think it would do you some good to break a bone two.”

* * *

 

When they made it back to headquarters Dean turned Crowley over to be processed. The man was cooperating for now so Dean waved Castiel to follow him to the elevators so they could see what the _A. Sami_ incident was about. Cas commented as the elevator doors closed, “It seems you won’t be questioning Crowley.”

“He’ll keep,” Dean replied. “A. Sami’s deactivation is too coincidental not to be connected and I don’t want anybody catching on to our investigation.”

“That’s too bad,” Cas said. “Crowley’s brainwaves-“

“What about them?” Dean interrupted alert.

“They’ve changed in an odd way.” Castiel said. “What happened while I wasn’t in the room?”

“I may have gotten on a metaphorical soapbox and preached to him the Gospel according to Finnerman.” Dean admitted still embarrassed by what he had said.

“I don’t understand that reference.”

Dean sighed, “I basically just tried to knock some sense into him. I told him androids weren’t going anywhere and we might as well use them. I also talked a little about how maybe colonizing new worlds with old earth values might not be such a bad idea.”

“Ah, that makes sense,” Castiel nodded. “What did you say about androids?”

“That they were simple machines. No offence.” Dean shrugged. “That was pretty much the Gospel according to Ash. I guess I missed my calling as a minister.”

“Did you by chance suggest that one could strike a robot without fear of a return blow like any other machine?” Castiel asked. Dean gave a nonverbal confirmation and Castiel said, “That explains why he struck me and the change in his brainwaves. The slap must have allowed him to expend some of his frustration and put an android in an inferior position.”

“What time is it?” Dean asked suddenly. He could have easily checked his watch or phone, but much like Crowley, Dean just wanted to abuse his authority over an android who had to answer.

“Ten passed twenty-hundred hours.” Castiel said.

“And I haven’t eaten.” Dean grumbled. “Damn this job. There better be left over chicken.”

* * *

 

Dean marched into Bobby’s office and was met with an exasperated, “Dean! Where the hell were you?!”

“Doing my job!” Dean snapped back. He pulled himself together when he realized there was a second person in the room. “Ash!”

“Hey, Deano.” Ash greeted.

“The entire department is being questioned downstairs.” Bobby warned, “It’s not looking good that you weren’t here, boy.”

“What?”

“It’s not looking good for anybody who wasn’t accounted for,” Bobby amended. “Somebody in the department did it and there’s going to be hell to pay.”

Dean turned to Ash. “I suppose you’ve figured out the cause of death?”

“An industrial aerosol.” Ash replied. “A couple of sprits lead to instant positronic-brain-death.”

“A _spray can_ did all that?”

“There’s almost two hundred million lines of code that make up the primary operating components of an android.” Ash explained. “If you scramble that data it’s lights out for any android and a simple reboot will not fix the problem.”

“What’s worse is somebody cut the security feed,” Bobby interjected. “It’s definitely one of our own that did it and that’s what bothers me.”

“Yeah, plenty of androids around town to take a whack at,” Dean agreed. “This wasn’t random.”

Castiel’s even tone broke some of the tension in the air. He asked, “But what could possibly be the motive for this murder?”

Bobby sighed. “Cops are human too. We get frustrated the same, if not more so, as anybody else. _A. Sami_ used to annoy the hell out of Dean every day.”

“That’s hardly a motive for murder,” Castiel countered.

“But it isn’t murder,” Bobby shot back. “In legal terms, it’s property damage. I know you’re quite the exceptional specimen, Castiel, but to most of the folks here _A. Sami_ was about as much a person as the copy machine.”

“We’re checking on any visitors that came today also,” Bobby continued. He looked at Dean critically. “You spoke with the Wilcox kid at all?”

“I don’t think he’d do a thing like this Bobby.” Dean said. “He wants a job and damaging police property would only make things worse for him than they already are.”

“What about Sam?” Bobby asked. “He dropped by today.”

“Family matter.” Dean said. Bobby just gave him a look that suggested he wasn’t buying Dean’s bullshit. “I’ll tell you later.”

“He’ll still have to come in for questioning incase he saw something.”

“I know the protocol, Bobby.” Dean said. “But I also missed out on dinner so-“

“Yeah, yeah,” Bobby dismissed him with a wave. “Go and eat. Maybe you’ll be less bitchy afterwards.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Love you too, boss.” The detective then thought of something. “Did they trace the sprayer?”

“Yeah, it came from a power plant.” Bobby told him. “The one on Western and Lyndale.”

And that bit of information made Dean’s instincts buzz in excitement. He would have to address the problem later after he had properly fed, though.

* * *

 

Dean stuffed a tomato in his mouth without acknowledging its possible yeast makeup. Castiel was sitting at another table in the empty department break room to give Dean some privacy with his thoughts. At last, after turning the idea over in his head several times Dean said, “I’m being framed.”

“I don’t understand your logic there Dean,” Castiel said.

“The power plant the spray can came from,” Dean said. “We were there.”

“But you didn’t pick up anything in the power plant.” Castiel reminded.

Dean huffed. “And if you were able to testify that in court it wouldn’t be an issue.”

“Oh, I see.” Castiel said. “That is not something that is possible.”

“Yeah I don’t think a judge would buy your testimony even if you can’t technically lie,” Dean said.

“No,” Castiel corrected. “I mean I’ve been in communication with Dr. Finnerman.”

Dean sat up. “When?”

“Just now while you were eating.”

“Why? Did something happen with the case?” Dean asked. “Did they find something in Sterling Town that we missed?”

“No, it’s just based on the progress that we’ve made it has been decided that the investigation will end as of today and all of Sterling Town will be making preparations to leave Earth.” Castiel explained. “I’m afraid you’ll have to clear your name without my assistance.”

Dean forced himself to remain calm. “What do you mean ‘end the investigation’? What the hell, Castiel?”

“Is it not obvious?”

“No it is not.”

“Our project is concluded.” Castiel told him. “Sterling Town’s mission was to reintroduce the idea of emigration to Earth. For the past twenty-five years every attempt has ended in failure. We tried to affect Earth’s economy. We’ve introduced Androids as substitute labor. Each attempt ended in failure until now, our last experiment.”

“What experiment?!” Dean shouted.

“You.” Castiel said. “It was Dr. Novak who suggested that we change our tactics. It was luck that you were assigned to the investigation, but you are a practical man, Dean. You’re profile and my impressions of you were enough for us to chance the experiment. We originally thought that the medievalists because of their romantic nature would be the ones to spread the idea emigration, but the more we pushed the more they lashed out and so we turned to you to see if you could be convinced.”

“Well, I certainly convinced.” Dean admitted.

“Yes, but you don’t want to emigrate yourself.” Castiel observed. “You’re almost too practical in that sense. We had thought we failed again, but then the most amazing thing happened. _You_ convinced Crowley. You changed his mind.”

“Wait a minute.” Dean cut in. “What about the Other Worlds demanding indemnity if we didn’t solve the case?”

“That was never a likely prospect.” Castiel said. “It was always more likely that they would shut down the Sterling Town project after Dr. Novak’s murder. This is why Dr. Finnerman was willing to take the risk of placing our hopes on you.”

“So you guys actually don’t give a shit about who killed Dr. Novak?”

“We would have liked to know,” Castiel said. “But we were never under any delusions on what was more important. Our project was for the good of humanity and punishing Dr. Novak’s killer wouldn’t revive Dr. Novak from the dead.”

“Then why not stay and find the killer?” Dean asked.

“It’s no longer necessary.”

“Necessary? There’s a murderer still on the loose!” Dean groaned and rubbed his face. “But I assume that you don’t want to scare off your new ‘hope for humanity’ if the killer turns out to be a prominent medievalist, right?”

“That’s not exactly correct, but there is some truth to your statement.” Castiel admitted.

“What about your justice program?” Dean asked.

“There are varying degrees of justice. When the greater is in contradiction with the lesser, the lesser must give way.”

Dean took a few moments to puzzle is way through Castiel’s logic and pinpoint a loophole. “Aren’t you curious? You’re a detective. It’s a detective’s job to investigate. It’s like a battle of intellect. You versus a criminal master mind. Can you really give that kind of challenge up?”

“If there is no worthy end to justify the continuation, then yes.”

“So you don’t understand curiosity at all?” Dean asked sadly.

Castiel paused for a moment to process. “What do you mean by curiosity?”

“Curiosity is the desire to expand one’s knowledge.”

“Oh,” Castiel said. “That desire exists within me, but only when the expansion of knowledge is needed to serve out a task. Aimless extension of knowledge, which is what I think you mean, would be inefficient and efficiency is necessary for me to function.”

“OH!” Dean shot out of his seat. “That’s it!” he shouted, “I know who did it now.”

“Dean, the investigation-“

“Ends today.” Dean interrupted. He glanced at the time. It was one hour until midnight. “But today isn’t over yet.”

“No, the day is not,” Castiel agreed.

* * *

 

Dean returned to the commissioner’s office just as the clock flashed 23:10. Bobby was pacing the floor anxiously and grumbled when Dean came in about the detective taking his sweet time. When Dean sat down Bobby went strait into it. “Dean, we have your badge flagged as having entered the power plant.”

“Yes, Cas and I passed through on our way to the apartment.” Dean told him.

“No body just ‘passes though’ a power plant, Dean.” Bobby said irritably. “What were you doing there?”

“There were extenuating circumstances that I’ll explain in depth when I’ve made my report.” Dean assured him. There was no need to get into the purpose behind their evasive maneuvers at the moment. Dean had another matter to take care of. “If you think I picked up a can of aerosol there, Cas can attest that we were just passing through.”

“Why did Sam come to see you?”

“He’s my brother. He’s allowed.” Dean replied edgily. “Like I said, it was a family thing.”

“I spoke with Crowley,” Bobby said. “He said Sam and Jess are involved in some extremist group that’s been planning to over throw the government.”

“That’s a wild claim.” Dean pointed out. “Sam told me he and Jess were part of a food movement to reintroduce a healthier alternative to over processed yeast products. If I was the one who took out _A. Sami_ why would I even bring in Crowley? No, somebody is trying to put me on suspension so I can’t solve the actual case I’ve been working on. But it’s too late. I’ve already solved Dr. Novak’s murder.”

“What?”

Dean looked at the clock. “I know who’s framing me. It’s the same person who killed Dr. Novak and decommissioned _A. Sami_. I only have 30 minutes to tell you about it, catch the man, and end the investigation.”

Bobby sighed. “Dean. You’ve already done this. In Sterling Town, remember? You were wrong the first time.”

Dean didn’t mention he was also wrong the second time because he was right this time. “When we left the diner we were being followed by a group of extremists. At least one of them saw me enter the power plant. Crowley was also with the group.”

“So you think someone is using that knowledge to frame you?”

“Partial.” Dean replied. “Crowley wasn’t the one who framed me. That was someone on the inside the department who also knows of Sam’s involvement, probably a fairly high ranking member in the group who has access to that kind of information. The biggest clue, though, is by framing me he’s revealed himself. Where were you at lunch time today, Bobby?”

“Now you’re questioning me?” Bobby asked incredulously.

“You know there’s not enough evidence to convict me of deactivating _A. Sami_ , but there is enough circumstantial evidence to suspend me.” Dean said as he drew out his plaster to point it at the commissioner. “You’re the one who deactivated A. Sami because he knew too much. He knew that you were the one who shot Dr. Novak.”

“Dean!” Bobby shouted. “Put that thing away. Castiel, stop him! The First Law!”

Dean felt Castiel’s vice like grip on his arm. “Dean,” the android said. “I can’t permit you to harm the commissioner.”

“I’m not going to hurt him, Cas.” Dean said. “Let me finish.”

“Alright.” Castiel agreed. To the commissioner the android said. “It would be wise to listen to him, commissioner. I have been in communication with Dr. Finnerman.”

“How? When?” Bobby demanded.

“Now,” Castiel said. “I have an independent communication system.”

“I didn’t kill anyone!” Bobby snapped.

“Our brain-wave analysis supports this,” Castiel agreed. “You’ll have to explain your logic, Dean.”

The detective nodded. “He went to the power plant this afternoon, but the logs were probably altered. The techs could probably retrieve the data though. He knows about Sam’s involvement. He practically begged me to take this case even though there were at least half a dozen men and women ranked above me in experience and skill. Because we have a family bond it’s hard to see him as a criminal.”

“He isn’t one,” Castiel said. “My analysis-“

“What you’re detecting, Cas, is that he wouldn’t _intentionally_ harm another person.” Dean said. “But it was an accident. Bobby didn’t go to Sterling Town with the intention to kill Dr. Novak. He was after you. The murder was committed in the early morning. It was still dark enough in unfamiliar territory and Bobby probably wasn’t expecting the two of you to look as similar as you do.”

Dean continued. “I know you’re a medievalist, Bobby. The proof is here in your office. You have _windows_ , for Christ’s sake, and wax poetry about the rain. You were the one who told Sam Castiel was an android. _That’s_ how he found out.”

“And _A. Sami_?” Castiel prompted.

“The smoking gun basically.” Dean told him. “You don’t carry a loaded weapon because it could accidently hurt someone, but I’m sure _A. Sami_ had not issue with carrying a blaster though the deserted wilderness. As long as the commissioner didn’t shoot anyone in _A. Sami’s_ sensory rang, the android wouldn’t intervene. He was just the errand boy so nobody thought to ask him about the case, but that didn’t mean nobody ever would so he had to be deactivated.”

“That’s amazing,” Castiel praised. “Because his cerebral-analysis was cleared, we were completely thrown off the scent.”

“Yeah, and now all of Sterling Town knows so you can’t deface me.” Dean told his boss. After a moment though he smiled and put his blaster away. “Lucky for you they have better things to do than convict your sorry ass.”

“What?” Bobby looked at them stunned.

“You’re pretty important in the extremist circles, right?” Dean asked. “Well, the folks in Sterling Town are packing it in as we speak. They’re done with Earth, but we still have a lot left to do.”

“I’m not getting at what you’re saying.” Bobby said. “They’re leaving? Why? And why now?”

“It was never their plan to stay,” Dean said. “They just wanted to plant the idea of emigration so Earth could be better and so we could create even better worlds. You’re going help do that.”

“I am?”

“Dean is correct,” Castiel said. “I speak for Dr. Finnerman and the people of Sterling Town in general that we will overlook your crime if you help us. Of course if you refuse or later on betray us we will hold your guilt over your head.”

“That’s blackmail.” Bobby groaned.

“Take the deal, Bobby.” Dean encouraged. “You’re family and I don’t want to arrest you. Also, by helping them you’ll be helping out humanity as a whole, so I guess I can forgive you for trying to _frame_ me.”

Bobby huffed. “It’s not like I was actually going to let you be arrested for it.”

“Glad we’re on the same page,” Dean nodded.

“Fine, I’ll do what they need me to do.” Bobby said. “As long as I don’t have to kill anybody. Dr. Novak really was an accident.”

“That’s good enough for me.” Dean said. “Now I am overdue for some sleep and basic human needs and I need to check on Sam.” He turned to his partner. “Cas?”

“He’s being honest.” Castiel said. “I can tell by his brain activity. There’s really nothing more to say on the matter. Only I think I’m beginning to finally understand something, Dean.”

“Oh?” the detective asked as they turned to leave.

“Yes, about what you said earlier.” Castiel explained. “I believe now that the destruction of what humans call ‘evil’ is actually less just than the redirection of evil to perform an act of good.” Castiel stopped in the doorway and then as if confused by his own word he turned to the commissioner and said, “Go, and sin no more!”

Dean cracked up smiling and threw his arm around Castiel’s shoulders. “Well said, Cas. You know, for an android you’re alright.”

“I’m pleased you think so, Dean.”

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You've made it this far, you might as well comment ;)
> 
> If enough people like it, I'll adapt a squeal. I need to know what you guys want to see. If I add any romance between Dean and Cas I'll have to deviate a lot more from the books. Also romance is not really my area of expertise, but I'd be willing to try.


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